Puppy Problems
by WizardsGirl
Summary: 1 of 3. We know the story of Beka Cooper. The Terrier. But, what about another of the Puppies? Here is the story of Kienta Bails, a self-imposed mute, and her life as the Player Puppy. Not much done, but working on it & Others
1. Prologue 1: Milony

**Puppy Problems**

I OWN NOTHING DEALING WITH TERRIER by TAMORA PIERCE!

I OWN ALL OC's (Especially main char & family) AND PLOT, WHICH IS ON THE SAME TRACK AS THE BOOK THIS IS BASED OFF OF!

This is a story, first in a Trilogy, that I wanted to toy with over the last two years! I haven't got much done, so DEAL WITH IT!

R&R!

PROLOGUE

From the Journal of Milony Bails Resident of Corner Lodgings, Fishbin Avenue, Lower City District Corus, Realm of Tortal

_**October 31, 229**_

Todai I rite of my second gixies berth. On Samhain born, she was, with hur papa's greene eyes and my blond hare, but heers be neer white. She is a miety strang child. To kwiet for a babe, but hur oldr sistr and for oldr bruthrs luv hur as if she wur a gift frum the Goddess herself. Hur papa is the saim.

Hur name is Kienta, an my oldist sun, Jakoul, is siten in a chare by tha window, rockin hur an feedin hur from a bodle. I am to tird ta do it meself, but I canna help but marvl at how stil my litle cove is. At ate yeers old, he shulda bin figitin and wiglin liek a wurm, but wen he holds tha babe, hes as stil an pashent as a statu, an kwiet ta boot!

I hope I wil be abel to feed my litle ones this week. My bodee aiks an throbs, but I can haff my oldest lads help me make the sweet cakes I sell, and Lyddy can watch hur new litle sistr. Shes sevn now, an old enuff ta watch the babe. I wil have the lads chek on them evry ones in a wile.

Thare papa has gone bak to the Blak Gods Temple, as hes thare only High Preest at tha mo, an much importent. My oldist to ar alredy set ta folow him inta tha Blak Gods preesthood, but that is fine. Tis a good thing, thow not meny liek them. Wat evr they chuse to do, I wil always luv my children, an they wil always be welcum home to my open arms. May the Gods watch ovr them an any I haff aftr!


	2. Prologue 2: Jakoul

From the Journal of

Jakoul Bails,

Resident of Corner Lodgings

Fishbin Avenue, Lower City District

Corus, Realm of Tortal

R&R

May 7, 236

Mama says a Journal is a good thing to have; says it keeps the mind sharp and the memories clear. That it helps a body remember details and things that otherwise they'd forget. I think it's a good thing, remembering the past, even if whatever you are writing is only a few hours old. The past is important. It helps make who we are in the present, and the future. I've decided that it is a good thing, keeping a journal. It will help me remember all that has happened in the last three years.

When Papa died three years ago, in early February thanks to a nasty illness that swept about sudden like here in the Cesspool areas, we all pitched in to help Mama with the food stall. Markus, Baret, and I worked at the stall, carrying things and helping Mama knead the dough. Lyddy and Kienta helped watch Kip and Corth, since the twins were only one and loved to try and cause mischief, and Kienta herself was only three. Lyddy was ten, so she could manage the three of them and mend our clothes whilst doing it too; she's good at that. We were all trying to help Mama out, though, so the grief didn't make her hurt herself, or the baby that was growing in her belly at the time.

A year later, Mama took up with a rusher from the Court of the Rogue, a great big red haired and green-eyed brute of a man with a nasty scar down his right cheek, from the corner of his eye down. His name was Kindle Ash, and he was a good enough man for a rusher; real gentle with us children and kind to Mama. He taught us our letters and how to speak as proper as an Upmarket nobleman (or noblewoman, depending). Didn't help much with Kienta, seeing as how the gixie has only said a handful of words her entire life, but sings prettier then any Player or Choir combined. Though, that didn't stop her from taking to writing like a fish to water, and she's a much neater hand then mine. Mama and Kindle think she's a bit god-touched, and the rest of us that know what that means agree that she probably is.

Mama's so proud of us all, and it don't matter that there's now eleven of us with another on the way. Markus and me are heading off to an apprenticeship with the Black Gods Priesthood, following our Papa's calling. Lyddy has her mind fixed upon being a doxie of all things, and Baret's hoping for a career as a spintry. And though Kienta isn't mute, she might as well be, and it's only when she's writing or singing where she flourishes. Though Mama's friend Fiddle Fiona is a Player, and she's been teaching Kienta to dance as pretty as anything, so we're all hoping that maybe she'll become a famous Player sometime. Kip and Corth are younger then Kienta by two years, and are setting up to be a fine pair of runners. Already they carry messages between us siblings and Mama, as well as taking a message or two to Kindle with Markus or me to escort them. Fintel and Maggie are also twins, and so far delight in helping Mama in the kitchen, though more often then not they both end up half asleep in a flour bowl. And that's only all of us who are from Papa. Jesabel came after them two, and Jorath came almost exactly nine months after _her_, so they're both still too young to show any interest in anything. All us older'un's worry about the babe's, and the one that's already half-grown in Mama's belly.

It's hard to feed us all, and the younger ones get us older children's clothes when we've well out-grown them, heavily mended. None of us had any shoes, and the soles of our feet are hard enough to walk on broken glass by the time we're four. I'm fifteen now, and whatever coin I happen upon goes straight to food for their bellies and Mama. Markus is twelve, Lyddy thirteen, and Baret is ten, but they all do the same, most often begging or stealing what they can, though only when desperate.

Kienta is six, near seven; though I fear her soul is much too old for her small body. Kip and Corth are four, and Fintel and Maggie are three. Jesabel is two, Jorath one, and there's the babe to fear for as well. The Cesspool ain't no place for babe's to be born with no food or clothes, so we have to work hard and stay together. Family is important, and though Kindle and quite a few of his friends from the Court, and a handful of Mama's Player friends, all pitch in, we're still a bit hard pressed, but we're working at it.

Gods help us if any of us don't live through winter. I'm a'feared that Mama would meet the Black God to go and see whichever of us goes before her, from grief if nothing else. I'll pray that day never comes, but the life of the Lower City is one that is mighty difficult to live. Especially for young children.


	3. Prologue 3: Jewel

From the Journal of

Nyler Jewel,

Provost's Guardsman,

Resident of Filler's Lodgings,

Inkers Street, Patten District

Corus, Realm of Tortal

R&R

March 19, 242

After watch.

A mighty strange day it's been. Yoav and me got early word, near the middle of watch, of an illegal slave trade happening down near the Barrel's Bottom, a nasty riverfront tavern, and went down there to catch the Rat's with their paws on the cheese. When we walked in, they were having enough problems with the gixies they'd snatched. Well, with one in particular, a pretty little thing with near white hair that reached her chin and large, bright green eyes that were spitting fury as she sank her teeth into one of the Rat's hands, making him yowl like a scorched cat. We broke the whole thing up quick like, catching all six Rat's that were heading the thing.

The one the wee gixie had dug her teeth into was the last to be cuffed, as me and Yoav both saw he wasn't going anywhere as long as the child had her teeth in him like a proper four legged dog, shaking her head from side to side and sending blood flowing. The Rat was near _grateful_ when we slapped some cords on him and the gixie let him go as meek as a kitten, moving right back to a smaller red headed gixie that had her same green eyes and pixie nose. They were two of six, and we took them all with us when we walked the Rat's to the cage Dogs wagon to be carted off.

"Lets get you lot home, eh?" I said, smiling slightly. A lot of them looked relieved, and the red headed gixie sniffled and cuddled into the biter's side to be hugged and petted into calmness again. Yoav handed the blond gixie her own handkerchief, and the child offered a damned near angelic smile back as she quickly wiped blood from her face. I could see why she'd been grabbed, and the wee red head as well when she looked up at us, shy as a mouse.

Four of the gixies had homes nearby, so we dropped them off. One of the mothers actually scolded the little one for running off and causing problems. Nearly curdled my stomach it did, until the little red headed gixie spoke up, after having a strange silent conversation with the blond one.

"Kienta says she was there when tha man dropped her off," she announced, pointing at the crying gixie who was being scolded. "She says tha' tha man was tall an thin an had blue eyes an'a thin mouth, an that 'e got ten silver nobles for her, so it'wasn't her fault at _all_!" The mother got real pale after that, and her lips thin with anger. Then she pulled her little one close and hugged her tight, apologizing and comforting her, as she should have in the first place. She thanked us and went inside with a deadly look in her eyes as she closed her door. Yoav sighed.

"Looks like we'll be back before shift's over to split up the quarrel," she said simply; I shrugged and turned to the two little ones that were left.

"Where do you lot live?" I asked kindly; the blond gixie made a few hand signs at the red headed one, who nodded and turned back to us, smiling sweet as an apple turnover.

"Kienta say's its okay ta tell ya where we live, 'cause you're good peoples, and Mama's pro'ly worried sick 'bout us." The blond gixie, Kienta, nodded with a small smile. I only just remembered that she had yet to say a single word, and realized with a sorrowful clench in my chest that she was in all likelihood's mute.

"Is that so?" I asked gently, softly; the red headed gixie nodded eagerly, all but bouncing along with her pretty red curls.

"Uh-huh!" she declared. "M'name's Jesabel, and I'm only seven," she said with no small amount of pride. "Kienta's twelve, though, but she's the bestest big sister ever!" Kienta blushed lightly and gave Jesabel a soft, sweet smile and pet her hair with a kind of familiarity that would have been obvious even to people who weren't a Dog like Yoav and me are.

"You don't say!" Yoav said, grinning down at the chattering little red head. "That's right brilliant, isn't it, Jewel?" I nodded with a slight grin of my own.

"Let's get you two home afore the sun's up, then, shall we?" I said; Jesabel beamed, overjoyed and seeming oblivious to what had happened to her in the last few hours. It was already pushed to the back of her mind, probably to reappear as nightmares later. Kienta met my eyes, the green flicked through with small flecks of purple, and I suddenly knew she'd not forget it, ever, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight and itchy. They were adult eyes in a young'uns face, and it made my skin crawl, but plenty of lads and gixies were like that in the Lower City. It was a place that ate away at the soul and made everyone grow old faster then their bodies allowed. I pitied them greatly.

When we finally got their address, we took them home. The fact that they lived in the Cesspool wasn't too surprising. The fact that as soon as some lad at a bake stall spotted us, and we were immediately swarmed by nearly a round dozen of children, was. A tired looking mot with dark circles under her blue-gray eyes and her dark blond curls in a loose bun hurried out, wiping flour from her hands, followed by three more children, who ran over with loud squeals of delight.

"Kienta!" "Jesabel!" "Are you okay?" "What happened?" and "We were so scared!" flooded my ears a dozen different ways as the two gixies were snatched up and horded away in the small mob of children. The mot shook her head at them with a relieved and warm looking smile, and came to us.

"M'name's Milony Bails," she told us simple. "An' I'm tha' lot's Mama. Where'd'ya find my gixies, Guardsman, Guardswoman? I'm mighty obliged." Yoav told her while I watched the writhing sea of children wrapped in a tight circle, counting them silently. Counting the two gixies we'd brought, there were five young gixies with Kienta the oldest, and eight young coves with the youngest still in nappies and the oldest two (they were twins) looking only a year or two younger then the blond gixie. Thirteen all together… The mot saw me counting and grinned at me, suddenly mischievous and wily.

"There be seventeen in all," she told me slyly. "And another on the way. Eldest four are off an' workin'. Three coves an' a gixie." She looked rather proud, and I couldn't help but stare at her, impressed. To keep five children alive in the heart of the Cesspool with hard; keeping _seventeen_ alive to adulthood? That was a miracle.

Suddenly, the swarm of children quieted, and we looked over in time to watch them move so that Kienta could walk over. She came straight to us, hugged her Mama, and smiled as bright as a star. Mistress Bails leaned down and kissed the gixies head, smoothing her ice blond hair back, and smiling softly. The gixie moved away and came towards us. She stared up at me and gestured for me to bend down. Bemused, I did so, and was rather touched to feel her press a kiss to my cheek before she did the same to Yoav.

My partner and I shared a look, bemused, as she smiled beatifically up at us, and turned, graceful as a cat, and returned to the waiting children, scooping up the youngest lad with familiar ease. Mistress Bails chuckled softly and shook her head; eyes on the crowd of children as they returned to the bake stall and began to work, obviously taking up the baking that had been neglected in the minutes that they'd been celebrating. She sighed.

"I've ne'er los' a child," she told us softly, eyes on the stall. "Not ta illness or slavers, not ta miscarriage or murder. I pray constantly, give me thanks ta the Goddess and Mithros e'ery day fer it, an' tha Black God fer not takin'em too soon. I nearly los' two of 'em tonight." She turned eyes dark and hard as flint to us, filled with a mothers deadly warning. "Tha'll ne'er 'appen ag'n," she growled, her Cesspool cant getting harsher. Mots with little ones down in the Cesspool are nearly as deadly as any rusher when they want to be, and twice as merciless. We nodded and prepared to leave when the smell of something with a lot of cinnamon and sugar filled the air, and Kienta and Jesabel walked towards Yoav and me, each with a handkerchief tied in a neat wrap, holding something that made my mouth water. We took them gently and thanked the gixies, watching as they moved to their Mama, curling into her sides to be cuddled and petted.

"Oh Goddess," Yoav moaned, mouth already full and eyes near rolling back in her head. I groaned in reply, eagerly digging into the cinnamon pastry the gixies had handed us. They were warm and all but melted in the mouth, soft and delicious. I'd never tasted anything so good. When we were finished, we each paid a good three silver nobles each for more, which the Bails Brood, as they should be called, gave us with delighted eagerness, Mistress Bails slipping in to help her children with practiced ease. I caught sight of the youngest little cove chewing on a batter covered spoon and covered in flour from a bowl where two little coves, twins, were playing happily and tossing flour on both him and themselves.

When we left the stall, it was nearly time to muster out and we said our farewells and headed back to the kennel, 'kerchiefs filled with the delicious pastries, and Kienta watching after us with her knowing, too-old eyes. We had to share some of our treasure with Tunstall, the sarden bottomless-stomached barbarian, who immediately begged to know exactly where we'd bought the pastries.

"They're better then anything I've ever had before," he declared with a dreamy sigh. Goodwin gave him an exasperated but fond look.

"Even better then Mistress Deirdry's apple-raisin patties?" she asked mockingly, eyebrow raised. Tunstall got very quiet and serious.

"Much better," he said with a nearly grim seriousness. Goodwin stared at him, and all four of us were silent, before I promptly shoved the last of my pastry into my mouth with a blissful groan. Tunstall looked heartbroken, and Yoav took pity on him and told him where he could get the cakes, before we were all sent home.

After I'd slipped quietly up the two stories that held my grandchildren and into my own room, to my wife, and got into my bed an hour or two later, I let myself think back to Kienta. She was a strange gixie, fast and graceful as a cat and twice as silent, though that wasn't totally because she was mute. There was something inherently… gentle, about her, especially for a kid growing up in the Cesspool. She had that air about her that made me think of the old grannyladies who everybody likes and will talk to, but are real demons when crossed or their families threatened. The kind of person you'd open up to and spill secrets.

She'd make one sarden good Dog.


	4. Puppy Problems: Day 1

The Journal of

Kienta Bails

R&R

Wednesday, April First, 246Before My Watch

Mama and my siblings spoil me so! They have saved money to buy me a brand new set of three journals, all so that I can begin writing of my adventures as a Dog… Well, as a Puppy, seeing as how I'm nothing but a trainee at this point and for the next year. I am eager to get my partners, and fret needlessly in my mind over who they will be. Needlessly, because I know that even if they're dreadful that I will forge on and work my bum off with them in order to become a Dog.

When I conveyed to my family my wish to become a Dog, they had been so stunned! I've been told I could become very rich as a singing and dancing entertainer, that when I chose to actually voice my words, they made the air itself seem cleaner and near magical. That a whispered request from mine lips would make the King himself hand me the Crown Jewels.

Pox and murrain on _that_ lot, I say!

I've wanted so bad to be a Dog, since two such Dogs' rescued my little sister (Jesabel) and I from slavers. I had been content, before that, to become a singer and dancer, but as my lessons continued and my body grew from gixie to young mot, I realized that I wanted nothing more then to work with Provost's Guard and help the innocents. Oh, I know people will thoroughly dislike me for it, but my family supports me. We support each other, with money and love and encouragement and protection, so when I told my Mama of my decision, she blessed my choice with a tearful smile and a kiss on my forehead.

The full year of training I'd needed was easily done, though my self-imposed muteness got in the way of me making too many friends. I spoke only when I reported to Kebibi Ahuda, my combat training master. She's a tough mot, that one, and Sergeant to the Evening Watch in the Lower City district. I admire her to no small amount.

My Mama's man, Kindle, who my siblings and I mostly call Papa, though he's not the daddy of the older nine of us, say's I'm too pretty to be a Dog, though in good jest. I am five feet, eight inches tall, and I'm a hard muscled mot. You'd be, too, helping Mama knead bread and wrestling with a handful of young coves who think it's fun. I've got blond hair that reaches a little lower then my chin, which is so light that Mama calls it Ice Blond, and is pretty sarden thick. My eyes are a bright green with a bit of purple flicked in. My peaches have grown pert and round and a bit too big to make running comfortable. Luckily, I can wrap them a bit so that they stay still and don't go trying to blacken my eyes any time I trot! And I've been told by many a cove that I'm very pretty in the face, though my siblings jest that it won't be long afore I'm black and blue and covered in scars. I do not think that I would mind that too much, though, as I have a fondness for them.

When five o'clock comes around, I will hurry to the Jane Street Kennel, in the Lower City District, where I and most of my family live as it is. Work has been very good at the bake stall, and Mama and Kindle were able to purchase a bigger house outside the Cesspool, though we often go and visit friends there. Now that I am sixteen, and working full time, I live in my own house, just a little way from the kennel, as it were, on Jane Street as well, so that I do not have to walk so blasted far.

I've been able to get a job as an entertainer for the days, from ten in the morning to two in the afternoon, so that I am not dreadfully bored. On Tuesdays, which will be my day off from _both_ jobs, I will help Mama out with the baking and minding my littler siblings. Mama's belly is already beginning to round with what could only be another Bails Brat. I am very happy for her and Kindle, and for my other siblings. My big sister, Lyddy, is supposed to be visiting as well, though she works as a doxie in Port Caynn with my older brother Baret, who is a spintry. I cannot wait to see her again, and hear news of the port-city as well.

At the moment I am dressed in my Player's garb, a gillyflower-red dress that's frilly around my calves and, when I dance, shows the smooth paleness of my legs. My face is wearing a red sequined mask that goes over the bridge of my nose and stops where my skin meets my hair. I had a small basket filled with meat pies, which I spent half of my earnings on. They were for my family, who's house I passed on my way to my own. Slipping up the small pathway leading to the door, I knocked twice before opening it and going in, closing it firmly behind me. Smiling, I took off my mask and let out three sharp whistles.

"Kienta!" Came seven squeals and I was soon surrounded by several blond and redheaded children, the oldest being ten and the youngest was five. I laughed, but no sound came out my open mouth. People say my laugh is mighty disturbing, seeing someone give head-thrown-back laugh in utter silence, but I don't care. When you can hear my _real_ laugh, which doesn't happen often, it's because I'm truly happy. Right now I was too nervous about my Dog-job to be truly happy.

"Whatchu bring us, big sissy?" my five-year-old sister Kala asked, eying the basket hungrily, though her dark blond hair was thick with flour and cinnamon, a sure sign that she had been sneaking some sweet dough. I put a finger to my lips and winked, grinning when all of them complained, herding me to the kitchen, where Mama and the rest of the Bails Brood were working on the pastries and pies for the Nightmarket, minus the three who were currently working the Daymarket with whatever treats the family had made the night before. We worked in shifts, for the most part. I smiled at them all as they greeted me, even little Mick, the youngest but for the babe in Mama's belly, who was banging on an upturned pot with a wooden spoon and cooing happily even as Hanse and Leorn, the three-year-old twins, painted on him with some sweet cake mix that someone had messed up.

"H'llo, Kienta, sweetling," Mama said warmly as she wiped her damp hands on a towel and waded through the crowd of brats to kiss my cheek; I kissed her back, of course, and smiled. "How's yer day goin' so far, deary?" I held up my hand, crooked my pointer finger, and then straightened it with a twirl. _Slow, but interesting_, the sign said. I spoke very rarely, even to my family, though they don't mind too much, thankfully. She smiled warmly at me. "Tha's won'erful, deary."

"She brough' sommat, Mama!" Kala declared and, with a fond roll of my eyes, I took the cloth off the basket and began to pass out meat pies, broken carefully so that everyone had some. Squeals and cries of delight rose up, and greedy hands snatched their shares away and crammed them into waiting mouths.

As the older of my siblings washed their hands and took their shares, all saying thank you, I handed the last to Mama and pressed a small pouch into her hand, smiling and kissing her cheek. She smiled at me with tear-filled eyes, and hugged me tight, when she opened the pouch and found the four silver nobles and six coppers I'd scrounged together for her. Mama is a hard mot with more muscles that I have, and large, gentle hands that could just as easily cuff as pet, but she's a mighty tender soul and easily touched. She's sturdy where I'm willowy, but sometimes I think she's the most graceful person in the world. I kissed her cheek again and hugged her back. Pulling away, I tapped the side of my nose and winked, before I jerked my head towards the window, which showed that my time was nearly up. She shooed me away, and all of my siblings shouted out various forms of squeals, shouts, and shrieks that all meant goodbye… In some foreign language, probably related to some type of bizarre menagerie beast…

Shaking my head, I put my mask back on before going out the door and down the street, slipping through familiar alleys and backways until I reached Jane Street. Hurrying up the steps of Jordan's Lodgings, where I lived in a small apartment in the attic, I waved at Master Foal, my landlord. He was a nice enough old cove, for someone who grew up in the Lower City like we did. Hurrying into my small but comfortable room, I shimmied out of my dress, took off my mask again, and carefully set them with my other Player's clothes, all with matching masks of their own. Then I nimbly pulled on my Puppy uniform, with the white trim at the hems of my sleeves and bottom of the black tunic, paired with black pants, and matching black boots. I had my fake coin purse on my belt in the front, with five coppers in it, close to my sap, and my real purse tucked under the metal gorget that kept my throat from being slit.

My whistle went around my neck, my paired daggers on my belt, and extra pair of daggers into my boots, and my baton in its usual place on my belt. I also had a water flask and my hobbles, for what Rats I catch. For the final touch, I put on the leather arm-guards ribbed with metal, which could be removed and exposed as small, hiltless blades, if the need arose. My oldest brother, Jakoul, who is now a High Priest of the Black God, sent them on my last birthday.

Nodding to myself, I recheck all my gear and sit down to write this. My first day as a Dog is about to begin, and I cannot wait! May the Black God smile upon me this day and, if not, may he welcome me with open arms to the Peaceful Realms!

After My Watch

When I got to the kennel, most of the other Puppies who were assigned to the Lower City were already there, and all looked gloomy and slumped. They felt they had gotten the short straw, all of them but Beka Cooper, one of my only friends from training. She's a shy mot, with long dark blond hair like Mama's, and eyes a pale-blue gray. Ghost eyes, most call'em. I think they're pretty, and she can give a glare that'll freeze a body clear through the marrow if she gets worked up enough. She was trying to look properly miserable, but I knew it was an act, since she _wanted_ the Lower City District, like me. She used to live on Mutt Piddle Lane, eight years back; we used to play when our Mama's talked, our little siblings close by so we could watch them, along with whichever of my older siblings (probably Lyddy or Baret) wasn't working. We had been good friends, and I had been sad when she had moved to my Lord Provost's house, but happy for her and her poor Mama, Ilony, with her lung-rot, as well as her four younger siblings. We'd become fast friends again once she remembered who I was.

I plopped my bum on the bench next to her, and we smiled at each other, me warmly and her shyly. Her hair was longer then it probably should have been, but she braided a spiked bit into it so that if any Rat were fool enough to grab it, they'd have a nasty time trying to do any damage by it while nursing a slashed and punctured hand. I tapped my ring finger against the pad of my thumb three times and gestured to her.

_How are you?_

"Nervous," she murmured, "excited, but definitely nervous." I smiled and bumped my shoulder against her comfortingly.

It'll be fine, I signed; she smiled at me, a little firmer, her ghost eyes warming.

"Thank you, Kienta," she murmured; I threw an arm around her shoulder and hugged her gently. My family is very affectionate, and touch is an important way we talk and check on each other. Ersken Westover, another Puppy, was the same way. We treated shyness by ignoring it, and were openly affectionate to our friends and sometimes strangers.

I pulled my arm back a few moments later when Ahuda took her place at the Sergeants' desk, and all us Puppies straightened. A thrill went through me, making me eager and wide-awake. We all feared the stocky black woman, with her spattering of freckles and straightened hair that reached just below her ears. She had some Carthaki blood in her, but I don't think that matters. She was a damn good fighter; she made fast fighters of us, _that's_ for sure.

She nodded to the Evening Watch Dogs as they came in for duty; some were already in pairs, or meeting up in the waiting room. A few looked at our bench and grinned; others nudged each other and laughed. The other Puppies hunkered down and looked even more miserable.

"They'll eat us alive," I heard Ersken murmur to Beka. "I think they sharpen their teeth." I grinned at him, and snapped my teeth with a loud click, making him grin.

"Going to sea wouldn'ta been so bad," Another Puppy named Verene commented from Ersken's other side. She'd come in after me and taken that seat, since the seat next to Beka had been taken by me. "Go on, Beka—give 'em one of them ice-eye glares of yours." Beka looked down and I turned my own brand of 'ice-eye' glare on the other Puppies. They liked to tease Beka, and though Verene did it without malice, I still didn't like it.

"You get seasick," Beka spoke up quietly, eyes still down. "That's why you went for a Dog. And leave my glares out of it." I patted her on the shoulder comfortingly, and she gave me a small smile, so I sat back and let her be, feeling better. I watched the Watch Commander, Acton of Fenrigh, go over the assignments, either choosing which Dog partners got a Pup, or agreeing with Ahuda's choices.

Outside, the market bells chimed the fifth hour of the day—the end of Day Watch, and the beginning of Evening Watch. Dogs going off duty lined up in front of Ahuda's desk, their Puppies at their backs, to muster out. When Ahuda dismissed them, they were done for duty; their Puppies, six of our classmates, sighed with relief and headed out the door. Before they left, they told us what we were in for, each in their own fashion.

Some gave us thumbs up, and a couple mimed a hanging with a weary grin. I gave them an amused look and shook my head, eyes rolling. They had _no_ idea what hard work was. Hard work was thirteen younger siblings, all with running noses and bottoms, squalling and coughing while Mama rested with a big, round belly full of baby, and you're the only one who remembers how to make the highly favored cinnamon pastries that all the Dogs loved, but only had an hour to make well over three dozen of the sarden things, _and_ all the other cakes and pies that had to be sold as well. _That_ was hard work.

When they'd all gone, Ahuda called out the names of a pair of Dogs. They'd been lounging on one of the benches; when they looked up at her, she jerked her thumb at the Commander's door. They checked each other's uniforms, settled themselves, then went inside. I couldn't help but appreciate the companionship they shared, and hoped for something like it, when I got my partner as a Dog… But I'm thinking ahead of myself. I've still got a year as a Puppy to live through, after all!

"Puppy Ersken Westover," Ahuda barked (ha!), "You are assigned to those two Dogs for training. Step up here." Ersken gulped, then stood to whistles and applause from the veteran Dogs. Beka straightened his clothes, Verene kissed him, and the other Puppies clapped him on the back or shook his hand. I hugged him, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and cast up a prayer to the Black God to smile upon him and help keep him safe. I hoped my patron god didn't mind me asking him to watch over someone that didn't worship him… My whole family followed him; my oldest brothers, Jakoul and Markus, were both his High Priests, just like my Papa was before he died. It had been an option for me to take as well, if dancing or Dog-work didn't suit me. I had been informed that I would be well received, at least.

Hilyard, another Puppy, elbowed Beka. "_You_ coulda given him a kiss, Beka, to brighten his last hours." She elbowed him harder; I rolled my eyes. Hilyard was always trying to cook up one mischief or another. I was beginning to think the Trickster had poked a bit at him before he'd come to being born.

"My kisses ain't good enough?" Verene demanded; she punched his shoulder. "See what sweetenin' you get when they call _you_." I shook my head and shared an amused look with Beka, though she peered from under her bangs to do so. I watched Ersken come to attention before Ahuda's desk; she looked down her short nose at him.

"Stop that. Relax. The Commander's giving them the speech, about how they're not allowed to break you or dent you or toss you down the sewer without getting permission from me first." The Dog's laughed; I grinned.

"Don't sweat it, lad," one called. "We're all just workin' Dogs down here."

"They keep the honor and glory and pretty girls for the Unicorn District," declared a mot Dog whose face was marked crossways with a scar. She reminded me a bit of Kindle…

"Up there," one said cheerfully, "the fountains run rose water. Here they run—"

"—Piss!" cried the Dogs; it was an old joke in the Lower City, and one that made me feel all the better for hearing it. The Commander's door opened; out came the two Dogs, looking resigned. The heavyset one beckoned to Ersken.

"Heel, Puppy. Let's get our glorious partnership rolling. You don't say nuthin', see? We talk, you listen." He clamped a thick hand onto Ersken's shoulder and steered him towards the door.

"Remember," Ahuda called after them, "tomorrow you Puppies report an hour early for combat training before you watch. No more easy starts like today!" When Ersken's Dogs let the door closed, she called two more Dogs names and they went to the Commander's door. It was Hilyard's turn and, while Verene made good her threat and didn't kiss him, I made sure he got a hug and cheek-kiss from me to make him feel better. I prayed for him, too, just in case. While we waited for the Dogs to collect him, a citywoman called out,

"Sarge? Be there word of who left old Crookshank's great-grandbaby dead in the gutter?" We looked at her, and I wondered if she was here to visit a Rat in the cages out back. She had five little ones with her, some of which I recognized who played with my siblings, and they waved at me with shy grins. She must be mighty a'feared, to refuse to leave 'em home, probably thinking some nasty child-killer was going to snatch 'em up if she did. I sympathized; Mama was keeping the little ones closer then usual since the three-year-olds body was found, and us older ones paid extra special attention to them, just in case. Ahuda shook her head in reply to the mot's questioning.

"There is no news, mistress," she said. "If you're scared for your own, I'd counsel you to let go of your fear. Crookshank is the evilest pinchpenny scale and landlord in the Lower City. He buys for coppers what's valued in gold. If one of his firetraps burns with a mother in it, he sells the orphans for slaves. He's got more'n enough enemies. Any of them could have strangled that poor little one." I felt a quiet growl leave my throat and clenched my teeth, eyes spitting fire. I _loathed_ child killers and child stealers. If I could, I'd see 'em all screamin' up on Execution Hill, an' even th' thought has me slippin' inta Cesspool cant an' me writing shaky. Beka silently leans against my shoulder, and I force myself to calm.

"Aye," muttered a Dog. "But no one kills women and children. They're no part in business." Ahuda glared at him.

"We'll catch the Rat and flay him living, but I'll bet anyone here that Crookshank drove some poor looby to Cracknob Row. Your little ones are safe, mistress." The sarden Rat that killed a child best _damn_ well be watchin' his steps…an' 'is gems. Family was off-limits unless they're your enemy's line of work. Crookshank was one of the most hated men in Corus, but _no one_ deserved a dead baby. Not even a scut of a scale like Ammon Lofts, AKA Crookshank.

"I'll wager the ol' scale got the best to seek the lad's killer," a cove said. "Come on, Sergeant. Who'd Crookshank buy special t' get put on the murder? I heard he got teams on each watch out seeking."

"He did," Ahuda said, not looking up from what she was writing. "Not that it's your business."

"Who's it on _this_ watch?" someone else called; Ahuda looked up, scowling and looking like she was about to tell them all to shut their gobs and keep their tongues from waggin', when someone spoke up.

"Why, me and Yoav, good cityfolk." My heart clenched and my belly flipped, recognizing that all-too-familiar voice as my head spun fast enough I was a'feared I'd pull a muscle. Nyler Jewel, the Dog that made me want to be a Dog, one of the two who saved my sister and I from the slavers. The man that I'd first had a crush on, when I was younger, and now idolized as the kind of Dog I wanted to be someday. The cityfolk all stared at him, as well, and doubtless they all knew that the two wouldn't sweat to catch Rolond Lofts killer, seeing as how Yoav's sister hung herself about three months back. Her husband had sold her to pay a debt to Crookshank, and then she had hung herself in the slave pens. No matter how much bribe money Crookshank paid them, they'd seek Rolond's killer like a dog would start speaking every language under the sun and dance a jig. The pairs picked from Night and Day watch also held a grudge against the old scale.

While Ahuda read out the names of the fourth pair to see the Commander, Senior Dog Mathias "Mattes" Tunstall and Corporal Clara "Clary" Goodwin came in. I grinned and waved at Tunstall, who was known to me quite well for being a bottomless pit who would buy us out if Clary would let him. He grinned and gave me a wink, and Clary gave me a slight smile and a nod. I patted Beka's hand, knowing how badly she wanted to be paired with those two, and how unlikely it was, since they'd never taken a Puppy. I sent up a prayer to the Black God, who already smiled on Beka, and asked him if he couldn't do _something_ to at least nudge things to Beka's favor?

Minutes passed, and Beka and I watched our littermates get plucked up by their Dogs and escorted out. Beka wiped her sweaty hands on her breeches, nervously glancing at me. I smiled sweetly at her and we both nearly swallowed our tongues when Ahuda called out the next two names.

"Tunstall and Goodwin."

"No!" Clary blurted; she looked at us. "No. _No_. We don't get Puppies. We don't _like_ Puppies. No offence, Kienta, and whoever you are. We have _never_ had a Puppy." I gave her a sheepish shrug, spreading my hands out, palms up.

_Sorry, but what can I do?_

"You're past due, then." Ahuda had no sympathy in her dark eyes. "Your luck just ran out." Clary stalked towards the Commander's door like a hawk that had sighted prey, all five feet, six inches of strong, fast body, dark brown hair cut short, and sharp eyes. Mattes drifted after her, a slightly bemused look on his handsome face. Mattes is about six-foot-three, long-armed, long-legged, with deep-set brown eyes and a long, curved nose. I remember, about three years ago, when my little brother, Oriver, had called him "Owl-Dog", which had just made the easy going man laugh a great, big belly laugh and toss the, at the time, four-year-old in the air. He was a good man, with hair cropped short all over, though gray was in both it and his short beard and mustache. He and Clary have been partners for thirteen years, though both have been on the Guard far longer. They were a good, strong pair.

"Rebakah Cooper," Ahuda said and, from the sound of the laughter in the room, this wasn't the first time. Quickly, I nudged her to her feet, straightened her shirt, gave her a hug and cheek-kiss, and shoved her towards Ahuda's desk. Beka's eyes were large as she went forward, all but twitching with nervousness. I sent up a relieved and silent thank-you to the Black God, and promised a proper ritual of thanks when I got home after watch.

"Don't let them rattle you," Ahuda told Beka. "You've got the best. That's the _only_ extra chance I wangled for you. And if you're smart, you won't depend on your _other_ connections high up to grease your way." Beka ducked her head, and I winced slightly at the blunt hint not to ask for help from her Lord Gershom.

"Better not be cooing _our_ tales in his ear, neither," a Dog said; I jerked my head around and bared my teeth, satisfied to see the Dog rock back on his heels, startled.

"No need to get bitey, Kienta," Jewel told me with a grin, before turning to the Dog who'd spoken. "Beka never whispered anything when she was a runner. I knowed she saw plenty. She had three _years'_ worth of chances. Never you worry about lil' Beka." There was muffled shouting behind the closed door, and I recognized Clary's angry voice, before she stalked out of the Commander's office, slamming the door behind her. _Well,_ I thought,_ she's in a proper tiff, now, ain't she?_ She stalked up to Beka and looked her up and down.

"I have two rules for you, Puppy," she said; Beka looked down, as she always did, especially when meeting new people. Clary grabbed her chin and forced her to look her in the eye. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, Puppy Cooper. Two rules. Speak when you're spoken to. And keep out of my way." She let go of Beka's chin and glared up at Mattes, who had joined them a moment ago. "All right? Time to start babysitting detail." Mattes smiled, looking even more like a tall, gangly owl.

"Come on, Puppy Cooper," he said, his voice deep and warm as it almost always is, with that hint of an accent that had intrigued me when I was younger, and still did a bit now. As the three of them walked by, Mattes ruffled my hair, making me smack his hand with a playful scowl. Clary grunted at me, and Beka gave me a nervous/relieved look so I gave her two thumbs up and an encouraging grin. She managed a weak smile, trotting after her pair.

Alone now, I turned my eyes on Ahuda and straightened my spine, face serious and patient, though I've been told it's more serene then serious, no matter how hard I try…

"Finch and Ferrows," Ahuda called; I turned my head to watch two Dogs, both male, straighten and move off toward the Commander's office. They were both about six feet tall, with hair cut short. One, who had broader shoulders and a scar on his forehead, was blond with blue eyes, and the other had black hair and black eyes and a hawk-like nose. Both were scowling and giving me dark looks, and I wondered how they would feel when the Commander told them of my 'condition'.

"Puppy Kienta Bails," Ahuda called; I stood with the usual grace I reserved for fighting or dancing, and walked over, remaining relaxed, though I had heard rumors of Finch and Ferrows being a nasty pair who liked to patrol the worse areas of the Cesspool so that they could have some fun, and didn't much like women as a whole. I wondered if I'd survive the year, with those two, but decided that worrying about it was a quick way to get myself distracted and killed anyways, so I pushed the thought away.

"How is your Mama, Puppy?" Ahuda asked me; I grinned wryly and mimed a round belly, and was rewarded with a wide-eyed look. "_Again_?" She demanded; I grinned and shrugged with a nod. "You'd think she'd get an amulet after the fifteenth child," she commented; I heard someone choke behind me, but I didn't look. "How many of there are you anyways?" I blinked and frowned, mentally counting. Let's see…

There was Jakoul, Lyddy, Markus, Baret, Kip, Corth, Fintel, Maggie, and me, though I'm older then both sets of twins. That's all of us from Papa. Kindle has more, of course. He has: Jesabel, Jorath, Nikolai, Siarana, Tinsle, Oriver, Cail, Kir, Kala, Mark, Hanse, Leorn, Mick, and the baby on the way. That means there are… I blinked, and mimed the number to Ahuda.

"Twenty-_five_? And that's counting the baby?" I nodded, and then gestured again when a thought came to me. "Or twenty-six. Because your poor Mama _needs_ another set of twins," she said dryly; I gave my eerie silent laugh and grinned up at her. The Commander's door opened with a bang, and my partners stalked out, glaring and broody. I turned towards them and waited patiently.

"Heel, Puppy," the blond one growled; I obediently slipped to the side and behind them both, giving a small flicking wave to Ahuda and the other Dogs before trotting after my Dogs. They didn't say a thing until we were well on our way to the Cesspool, then they reached back, grabbed me, and pulled me close, faces hard and cold.

"Listen good and listen well, Puppy Bails," the black haired one growled. "Me'n Ferrows here," he gestured at the blond, "We don't like Puppies. In fact, we hate them." Ferrows nodded, sneering.

"You're all not but a bunch of stumblin' puttocks, beggin' ta be killed by any Rat worth 'is whiskers, and some even less." Finch nodded.

"So, here's what we're gonna do, little mute," he said; I gave him a droll stare, and he smacked me. "Don't be givin' me any sass, trull," he snarled; I ducked my head, cheek stinging harshly. "Now, you're gonna be a good little Puppy and do everything we say. You will not speak—"

"Not that you could anyways," Ferrows snickered cruelly.

"—You're not going to get in the way, and you're not going to even _breathe_ without our permission. Got it?" I nodded my head, looking down. Fine then, I decided grimly, if it was a meek little Puppy they wanted, they'd get one, if only so I could cause as much trouble as possible. They grunted in approval and turned, stalking away, with me following like the good little Puppy I was.

Almost as soon as we were in the Cesspool, we were pulled into a brawl. Apparently, some coves and mots' were betting on a dogfight when the winning dog refused to kill the loser, and then the bet-keeper ran off while everyone was shouting. My Dogs ordered me to stay back, and dove right into the fray, shouting at them all to disperse even as they cracked heads. Even though I was irritated with them, I couldn't help but admire the way they moved and worked together.

While I watched, a massive brown and tan dog slipped from the mass of writhing and violent bodies. It was male, I could tell, and had a chest and shoulders that were as wide as a river-dodgers. His head was fat and squat, with a large black nose and fangs, and hanging jowls. His eyes were droopy and a strange light yellowish amber. He was covered in scars and new wounds, and would have reached my navel at the shoulder had he stood next to me. He shook himself firmly, yawned, and trotted towards me. I wondered, briefly, if I should take out my baton, when he stopped a few feet from me and sat, staring at me with his strange yellow-amber eyes. I blinked slowly, and cocked my head at him, waiting.

_Are you going to stare all day?_ He seemed to ask; I rolled my eyes, reaching out to let him sniff my hand. He did so, politely, and then let me pet him. He was a brute, with years of dogfights under his belt, and all of them wins by the look of it.

"Stupid, sarden, murrain-infested mongrel!" a huge river-dodger bellowed, stumbling out of the mass of bodies, his club raised high and bellowing like a bull as he ran towards me and the dog. The dog watched him, backing up towards me, teeth bared. I heard Finch and Ferrows cursing and shouting at the cracknobs that surrounded them. Instinct had me stepping between the dog and the oncoming cove, baton and sap in my hands. The river-dodger swung at me with the club, the smell of hotblood wine wafting off of him. My baton and sap went up, crossed to catch the two-handed blow, which nearly forced me to my knees with its strength, forcing a grunt out of me. I was glad now, more then ever, for my thick muscles from bake-duty. Lunging up, I twisted my baton out from under his club, using my sap to hold him off, and slammed the tip into his gut, gratified when the air ripped from his mouth and he staggered back and fell on his rump.

"You trollop!" a mot screeched, coming at me from behind. I whirled, sap moving in time to bat away the heavy blow from a shovel, of all things. Quickly, I slammed my baton under her jaw, watching her eyes roll back and catching her as she fell. Gently, I lay her down and turned in time to see the massive dog bowl the river-dodger over before he could get to his feet. Lunging forward, I grabbed his collar and heaved him back, muscles straining as I fought to keep the dog from ripping the bawling drunks throat out.

A growl of my own escaped my throat as he snarled, and I tapped him smartly on the rump with my baton, making him jerk around and snarl again. I gave him a vicious glare, but twisted in time to block another hit from another river-dodgers meaty fist with a slam of my sap, making him yowl like a scalded cat and clutch his probably-broken hand. The dog pressed against my side as I suddenly saw that the brawl had grown, and that it had moved towards us. _And I didn't even have to disobey orders,_ I thought dryly, batting away hits from tussling coves and mots, smacking heads, knees, and backs alike as I protected myself.

Finally, a whistle went up, asking any Dogs nearby for help. Without thought, I joined in, the dog and I forcing our way through the mass of bodies to the middle of the brawl, where Finch and Ferrows were back-to-back and dealing out nap-taps and broken bones. I twisted, dodging a club, and hit its wielder firmly in the gut and the shin. I found myself right next to my Dogs, sweat pouring from my face with blood from the cuts on my cheek where a mot had decided to use her sarden _claws_ on me. I'd given her a right nasty smack on the hand with my baton for that one; scratches _stung_! More so when sweat got in 'em.

"Havin' fun, Puppy?" Finch mocked, wheezing through bared teeth as he smacked some poor cove in the gems before whacking him on the nob. I managed to spare him a grin that was more a baring of teeth and slammed my baton into a mots arm as she swung at the dog with a club; she yelped and dropped it, scrambling away and clutching her limp right arm.

I heard, distantly, the whistles of other Dogs, coming to help. The crowd was only just starting to thin, as the fighters either fell unconscious or stumbled away with broken bones and bruised prides. The dog helped. People always want to avoid a snarling dog, but with this'un the size he was, it was more so. Half the brawlers reeked of hotblood wine and unwashed flesh, and I ducked a club to the head only to flinch back from a blade that flashed in front of me. Quickly, my sap came up and smacked the blades owner in the shoulder, hard enough my arm pulsed and theirs most likely went numb. The dog sank his fangs into a coves bum and sent him yowling into the night.

Within minutes of another pair of Dogs to arrive, a pair that didn't have a Puppy, the mob was soon no more. I was covered in blood and bruises, not all of the first being mine, and quickly helped my Dogs tie up the remaining coves and mot's that had had the pleasure of being knocked senseless. The dog never left my side; panting and drooling, tail wagging lightly as I patted down a mot, looking for weapons. Finch and Ferrows, along with Evermore and Springbrook (the two other Dogs), patted down their own catches, my Dogs talking to each other, obviously pleased with the fight. Once I finished cuffing and patting my lot, I sank down onto the ground with a sigh, grunting when the large dog flopped contentedly into my lap, massive head pressed against my sore stomach. Smiling tiredly, I scratched his ears and popped my neck. My muscles ached from so much work already, the excitement leaving me drained and slightly light-headed once everything was over.

"You alive, Puppy Bails?" Finch asked; I held up a thumb and gave him a thin smile, not even wincing as the cuts on my cheek once more began to bleed, the skin pulled tight. "We're not anywhere finished, Puppy. You've got a good seven-and-a-half hours left afore we can crawl into our beds and sleep." I smiled with a wince and heaved myself up, using the dog as support. A reluctant gleam of approval glinted in my Dogs eyes as they took in my appearance, and I forced myself not to change my stance as pride glowed through me.

A fast ways to entering my god's care is through arrogance and pride, after all, and I felt no wish to meet my father in the Peaceful Realms as yet.

We quickly lead our mob to the nearest Cage Dogs, and then my Dogs and I are again slipping into the Cesspool, though the big brute of a fighting dog never leaves my side. My Dogs sneer, but let him alone. Two more brawls, an attempted mugging, and three attempted rapes, all stopped, and all guilty parties delivered mostly unharmed into the Cage Dogs hands (I say mostly, because I got a bit carried away with one of the would-be rapists, whose victim was a gixie no more then ten).

By the time End of Watch was called, I was bone-tired and limping. My pale skin was littered in blood and bruises and muck from the many scuffles, and I knew I looked a frightening sight. I stood, though, straight and tall behind my Dogs, who'd decided that, if they had to have a Puppy, at least she could fight. They had bought me a meal at a nasty, brawl-filled pub called the Barrels Bottom, after we cracked the nobs' of a good twenty river-dodgers' and sent them to the cages. I'm not sure if the food was meant to be eaten by humans, but my furry companion thought it was all right, and I was too hungry to care if my potatoes were a mixture of raw and mush.

Ahuda dismissed us, and I was almost too tired to notice that Beka was reeking of fish, but notice I did. Silently, I limped to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist, giving her an exhausted smile that made the scabbed-scratched on my cheek ache fiercely. She grimaced, obviously mortified, and I nodded sympathetically and motioned that we'd talk about it tomorrow. She nodded, and left, but Ahuda called me back. Tired and beginning to feel a little cranky, I limped back and stood before her, head cocked with watchful attention. My companion sat at heel, posture still and patient, watchful.

Have I mentioned that I'm already rather fond of the brute? Because I am.

"As a way to make sure most of our Puppies make it through their year to Doghood," the sturdy black Sergeant began carefully, eyes slightly narrowed on me as my Dogs stood nearby, scowling and stiff, "we try and keep their involvement in dangerous brawls to a minimum. Unfortunately, the Cesspool requires a certain… touch, when Dogs walk amongst its members. Finch and Ferrows deal with it best, but I'm beginning to wonder if you'll survive your year with them." She frowned, eyes serious. "Your Mama's a good friend of mine, Kienta, and I dislike the thought of her reaction should you die." I gave her a look, and rolled my eyes, before pointedly limping over to my Dogs, and slipping into the patient, waiting posture Puppies took when awaiting their Dog's orders. Finch and Ferrows gave me a small, measuring look, and both nodded, before all three of us locked eyes with the Desk Sergeant. She sighed.

"You've decided then," she observed; I inclined my head with a small smile. She nodded, then gave my Dogs a sharp look. "Try and resist the temptation to get into the bigger fights, you two. I want to keep the Puppy mortality rates low this year." My Dogs nodded, and Ahuda sent me to get checked by the Kennel healers before sending me home. I was glad she did. They patched up my face until no wounds were left, helped the swelling in my various bruises, and fixed a few ribs that had been unknowingly cracked. Exhausted and deliriously happy that I lived close to the Kennel, I limped home with my beast, crawled up the stairs, and managed to write this all down afore my eyesight got too blurry. After I preformed a proper thank-you ritual for the Black God, of course…

Now I'm crawling into my bed, where my dog already took up half and was happily snoring, and am going to bed. A pox and murrain on sore muscles and achy bones, and here's to hoping that tomorrow will be a little less painful, if no less brilliant!


	5. Puppy Problems: Day 2

Journal of

Kienta Bails

R&R

**_Thursday, April Second, 246_**

Before My Watch

I woke to the sarden beast licking my face, two hours afore I needed to be up. I managed to get up from my bed, my muscles protesting viciously, with much silent cursing and snarling. I think that murrain-infested cur was laughing at me as he waited oh-so-innocently at the door. I splashed some water in my face, pulled on a vibrant blue Player's dress and matching feathered mask, and tied a thin cord around the dogs neck before taking him downstairs to do his business in the back alley, where trash and worst grew putrid. Master Foal gave me a package of meat for the dog, and a wink.

"A good Dog ta watch yer back, there, Wintry Rose," he acknowledged, calling me by my Player's name. I gave him a warm smile and nodded, patting the great brute on the head when he pressed against my hip, eyes locked on the package. "I 'eard 'e 'elped a Puppy through some nasty brawls las' night. Can't be too bad, I say," he added, patting the dog on the head. "'E got a name yet?" I blinked, and spoke softly, sweetly, after a moment's thought, my throat aching vaguely.

"Jinglenob," I murmured with a grin. "His name is Jinglenob." Foal chuckled, grinning, and the newly named Jinglenob panted, tongue lolling from his mouth with a thick trail of drool. I'm of a thought he'll live up to his name. Bidding Foal a good day, I led the way back up to my room, and stripped down to nothing. I poked and prodded sore muscles, and grimaced over obvious bruises, before pulling out a purple jar of cream. Mama had started making it when I was but a little gixie, and it worked wonders, making bruises fade in hours as opposed to days, and helping sooth aches. I had loads more, but still tried not to use too much of it if I could.

Once I applied it, I slipped my blue costume back on, picked up Jinglenob's cord (which I have no doubt he could snap in an instant if he was of a mind to do so), and headed out towards my first job. I took the long way so that Jinglenob got some exercise, and was still nearly an hour earlier then usual.

My Player companions, Nicka Listen and Maura Holly, both eyed Jinglenob warily, but greeted me warmly enough. They were an odd couple, those two. Nicka was six foot tall, with honey blonde hair, big blue eyes, a smile that was charming enough to melt a mot's senses, and a body that could tie itself in knots with an unnatural flexibility. Maura, on the other hand, was a Carthaki mot with ruby-red lacquered nails and unbelievably red skin-tight dresses and skirts, who could play the flute and dance well enough that I always wondered why she wasn't working up in the Prettybone or Unicorn Districts and making more money then she was here.

"Wintry, what's gone and cracked your nob enough that you brought a brute like that to work with you?" Nicka asked, cocking his head to the side as Maura wrapped long black arms around his waist and snuggled close. I placed a hand on Jinglenob's broad skull, right betwixt his floppy ears, and shrugged at them.

"He followed me home last night from work," I told them softly, stroking my beasts' forehead fondly. "I think he's a charming fellow, my Jinglenob, don't you?" I smiled as they both snorted, before offering their hands for the fighting-dog to sniff, which he did, politely.

"Jinglenob, eh?" Maura asked, her throaty voice a rich purr that I could swear was made for hazy rooms and large beds… "You'd have to be, I suppose, to put up with such a name in the first place, hmm?" She chuckled and scratched the dog behind the ear with her long, bright-red nails, making him groan happily and snuggle up against my leg. I chuckled, and smiled at my two friends. They didn't know me outside of the Player's garb; not many did. Some will, eventually, connect the dots between Wintry Rose and Kienta Bails. Some had already, but they dismissed their findings, I believe. A mute girl training to be a Dog was the same girl who sang and danced with the Player's? T'wasn't believable. Some had come to the conclusion that Wintry Rose was just another Bails Brat, and left it at that.

I'm not sure why, but even after all these years, it still surprises me how easily people push their thoughts away for an easier answer.

"I don' pay yez ta be lollygagging about like mumpers'!" The screech came from the cracknob we Players here worked for, Faraway. Rumors say he was once a brilliant singer, but too much time kickin' up a fuss about little things soon ruined him. His hair is black and greasy, his teeth half-rotted away, and his skin a sickly gray-white, and lumpy-looking on his face, like spoiled milk. His eyes are dark and beady, and he's always twitching and watching everything, like a genuine rat. I dislike him, but he's a cheep employer and, if you're fast enough, you walk home with more money then he thinks.

I'm always fast enough.

"Wintry! You're on in twenty minutes!" Faraway bawled; Jinglenob bared his teeth in an expression that looked like a sneer. I smiled, amused, and nodded at the rat-like man who took a quarter of my supposed earnings every day.

"I'll be ready as always, Master Faraway," I said; he sniffed, glowered at Jinglenob, but hurried away when my brute bared his teeth and growled. I scratched him behind the ears, and kissed the top of his head. "Such a vicious beastie," I murmured, then straightened and nodded at my two friends. Quickly, I moved away, picking up my large, shallow bowl, made for my earnings. I sat and waited until my call was up, then Jinglenob and I padded out into the large area that had been cleared of scummer and worse for us Players. I beamed out at the crowd, mostly coves and little ones, and waved at them all.

"I'm sorry for the delay," I said warmly, and patted Jinglenob on the head. "I have an assistant today, and he'll be with me every day from now on. A couple of coves have been giving me problems, and so I borrowed Jinglenob for a bit to… dissuade them from continuing." There were calls and grumbles through the crowd, before I smiled and they quieted. I only ever sang four songs first shift, and danced to only the first and third. When finished, I collected my bowl and headed behind the meager boards that kept us Lower City Players mostly concealed, until I could enter the house we used to settle in until our second and third shifts came about.

I sang a total of seven shifts, as I have four hours to work. But my next shift wasn't for half an hour, and I quickly set about counting and moving my coins about. First shift, I pulled in eight silver nobles and twelve coppers. Not bad, for first shift, and more then I'd gotten yestereve. Smiling, I plucked out four silver nobles and four coppers, and tucked them into my coin purse, which, currently, is nestled between my ample peaches. I wrote the remaining number of coins on a piece of paper tacked to the wall, next to my name, so that Faraway, who was drooling and groping a doxie-friend of mine for half-price, would see that I'd brought in an "average" amount for a first shift. She winked at me, and I smiled.

Sarah Lee is a nice mot, with honey-blond hair and big blue eyes. Had she been a child, she would have been Slaver's meat. As it was, she was an expensive doxie, with a royal blue dress that stops halfway down her calves so that it doesn't get in the street muck. She's a good distraction and doesn't mind letting Faraway grope her, if we other Players toss a coin or favor her way every once in a while. She's almost always at either the Court of Rogue or one of the Chief rogues taverns, collecting juicy tidbits so that the rest of us Players have a bit of warning. She knows I'm a Dog after my four hours are up, but she doesn't tell. I always give her a silver noble or two at the end of my hours anyways, so we're friends most days.

I sang and danced through my shifts, always with different songs and dances in different orders. Some songs are old favorites, some new, some foreign, and some I just made up to a good tune. My regular customers and new ones loved the variety, and I tried not to sing the same song two days in a row, unless more then three request it. Today was different, though, but in a startlingly good way.

I was collecting coins after my final shift, and just as I bent to pick up my bowl, a coves hand appeared over it. The sleeve of his shirt was fine, with beautiful embroideries, and I lifted my head, startled, to find myself looking in to the rather handsome smiling face of a nobleman.

"Nearly forgot to add my bit," he said, voice deep and cultured. His hair was black and thick, forming a neat widows-peak on his lightly tanned forehead. It reached his chin, which was strong with a bit of stubbornness to it. His lips were thin on the upper and slightly full on the lower, under a straight nose and smooth cheekbones. His eyes were slightly sunken, and a deep brown that was nearly black. I blinked and looked down into my bowl as he pulled back his hand.

He'd put four gold nobles atop the silver and copper.

I felt my eyes go wide as saucers, and my head jerked up, mouth parted. I must have looked like a gixie at Yule, for the nobleman grinned, amused.

"My lord," I whispered, and swallowed my pride and Cesspool teachings for a moment. "'Tis too much for the likes of me," I managed; he continued to smile, and shook his head.

"I always give as much as whatever's worth, pretty flower," he told me, nodded once, turned, and walked away, in his fine blue silk with the purple and red embroideries, and his guard waiting with his beautiful black horse. I sat there like a looby, staring after him as he and his guard walked away, and only Jinglenob licking my cheek had me snapping out of my trance in order to hurry to the back room and sort my coin. The four gold nobles went straight into my purse; along with five more silver nobles and six coppers.

It was more then I'd make in a month, maybe two, counting both of my jobs.

Faraway stumbled from one of the three doxie and spintry rooms that were saved for those who wanted to pay for privacy. I handed him his chunk of my prophet, and left, absentmindedly grabbing Jinglenob's leash, which had been dragging behind us for a while now. Quickly, I made my way to Mama's and went up stairs. Stepping inside, I took off my mask and hung it by the door, and gave my three-whistle call.

"Kienta!" Four cries erupted, before Kip, his twin Corth, along with Fintel and his twin Maggie, came running down the hall to throw their arms around me. I hugged them tightly as well, and kissed each one on the head. Fintel and Maggie, who both had a bit of magic with anything that has to do with food, had been at the Daymarket my last visit, and probably most of the Nightmarket as well. They were mighty useful with anything that had to do with flour or eggs or dough. Kip and Corth, though, had been running messages for noblemen all day, and usually sleeping the sleep of the dead all night, poor coves.

"We've news, sister!" The two messengers declared in unison, as was their usual way. I smiled and nodded, and signaled,

_As have I, siblings_, to them. They quickly herded me to the kitchen, where Mama was resting on Kindles' lap. I kissed both on the cheek, smiling as the Rusher gave me a wink. Jinglenob woofed, and, startled, my four siblings leapt away from him, having only just noticed him. I giggled aloud, and padded back to pat him on his broad head.

"Yez have a new friend, eh, sweetling?" Mama asked, getting up and padding over to crouch before my beastie and offer her hand. He lolled his tongue out at her, and put his large paw in her upturned hand, making her laugh and gently shake with him. "Does he have a name yet?" I smiled, and spoke softly.

"Jinglenob," I said simply; Mama laughed a brassy, warm laugh and scratched my dog behind the ears, making him groan happily and lean against my leg, nearly sending me sprawling. I grinned and ruffled the thick ruff of his neck.

"Right nasty brute you've got there, sweet," Kindle said, standing and coming over to pat my dog himself. Jinglenob lapped up the attention as my four siblings, along with a good seven others, came to croon and babble at him. Even little Mick, who toddled over and squealed when my dog licked the sweet-cake mix from his face, making him fall.

"Enough playin' you lot," Mama finally called, laughing. "Ta work with yez," she ordered; everyone but Kip and Corth and I hurried to obey, with Kindle scooping Mama up and setting her once again in his lap. I love Kindle dearly, and he always puts a smile on my Mama's face. I hope one day to have a man like him.

"As we was tellin' Kienta," Kip started, hopping up onto a free stool next to Corth. I took a chair and sat, reaching into my dress to pull out my unusually heavy purse.

"We've news, from Unicorn District," Corth finished, nodding.

"Not sure what good it'll do any of us," Kip admitted,

"But better ta know an' not need-" Corth started,

"Then need and not know," Kindle and Mama finished with fond smiles. Kip and Corth grinned and I chuckled silently.

"Anywho," Kip said, leaning forward at the same time as his twin, both setting their elbows on the table. "We was deliverin' a message out ta a Lady in Unicorn from 'er Lord in Patten," Corth picked up,

"When we's spots a nobleman up on 'is pretty 'orse, an can't believe are glims." Kip nodded eagerly.

"This bugnob minnow from th' crowd tries ta snatch one of this nobleman's gauds, in front of the Goddess 'Erself in broad daylight!" A look of dismay crossed both of their faces, and I grimaced as well. Bugnob indeed, to try and do something like that.

"Well," Corth continued, shaking his head, "'is Lordship grabs th' bugnob by 'is wrist, right a'fore 'is ticklers can even touch a sparkly on th' 'orse." Kip shifted and took up the story.

"Now, all us watchers are thinkin' ''E's gonna call fer th' Dogs, then' an' are all a'waitin' ta scamper off, but does 'is Lordship call?" Both twins shook their heads.

"Na' a sound," the both said seriously.

"So," Corth says, "we was then all wonderin' 'what's this looby up to?' an' ya know what 'e does?" I cocked my head and arched a brow.

"Th' cracknobbed-mumper _gives_ th' bugnob a gold noble!" They were wide-eyed with disbelief as they said it, not that I could blame them. My own eyes were wide, as were Mama's and Kindles.

"Then 'e lets th' bugnob go an' smiles at 'im as 'e leaves," Kip says, shaking his head. "An' 'e set's 'is black eyes on us, n'does this." Both lifted their right hands and crooked their first fingers in a 'come here' motion.

"So we's goes to 'im," Corth said, both shrugging. "An' 'e asks us if we's know where 'e can see some Players' jollity that'll be worth some coin." Kip took up the story as both twins scrambled for their hidden purses.

"So, we's tells 'im ta look in at ol' Faraway's down in the Cesspool, an' tha' our sister is Win'ry Rose." They gave me a sheepish, uncertain look, and I waved it away, heart pounding.

"An' 'e tellsth' likes of us _thank ye_ and gives us each a siller noble!" They proudly held up their two coins, and Mama and me shared a warm, fond look. Boys.

"Yez did good, lads," Kindle told them, and we three elder smiled as my brothers swelled even more with pride. So easy to please, these two are most days.

"So did 'e come an' see yez Play, sister?" The twins demanded as they stowed their silver away, to use in an emergency later on, hopefully. I nodded and pulled out the four gold nobles, staking them neatly on the table. Mama, Kindle, and the twins stared at the coins, and I nodded again, poking at them.

"Yez best ta hide them, sweetling," Mama finally said, picking them up and putting them firmly into my hand. "Ye'll need them one day for sommat, an' so ye'll have ta hide 'em good." I nodded and slipped them into my bag, a'fore I stood and dumped ten silver nobles and ten coppers onto the table, half of what I had in my purse, and pushed it to her with a smile and a shrug, signaling before she could object.

_I've more then enough for me and the dog both, Mama._ Teary-eyed, she nodded, stood to give me a kiss, and scooped the coins up to carry them away. Kindle gave me a nearly crushing hug and a kiss on the head, his whisker's prickling my skin, and I hugged him back. Quickly, I hugged my siblings, let Jinglenob say goodbye, and hurried off to my lodgings, mask in place and purse tucked once more betwixt my peaches. I got many a whistle and call today, and laughed and blew kisses to those I knew and those I didn't.

Upstairs, I stripped to my breast-band and loincloth, and hid my four gold nobles inside another purse, which I pushed into an old mouse-hole and pushed my dresser in front of. It'd be safe enough there, at least. Quickly, I applied more of Mama's cream to my nearly-gone bruises, and pulled on my Puppy Gear. Tucking my true purse once more betwixt my peaches as my gorget pouch tended to rub awkwardly, I set down to write all this. I must leave soon, though, for all Puppy's are due to report an hour early today.

Black God, watch over me this day!

After my Watch

_Written at two of the Morning_

I arrived at the kennel and then the training yard, to find Beka surrounded by teasing, jeering Puppies and a handful of Dogs. It's required of Dogs from trainee to fourth-year to train in the yard. Eyes narrowing, I dropped Jinglenob's thin rope and pointed him to a nearby corner, where he immediately lay down and seemed to sleep. I listened to them tease Beka for a few moments, when movement behind me had me tilting, baton swimming around into a guard position. I met Ahuda's calm stare, and arched a brow. She took in the mocking circle around my friend, then looked at me, gesturing. I tightened and relaxed my grip on my baton obviously, and she smiled slightly, and nodded.

Grinning wolfishly, I slunk up behind a third-year dog, and smacked him soundly on the back, sending him forward into a mot Puppy, who yelped and sprawled on the ground. Turning, I thwacked a nearby cove hard on the shoulder, and whirled in time to block a two-year Dog's blow and send him back with a hard kick to the padding on his stomach, retching. In seconds, I was back-to-back with Beka, and Ahuda had appeared, sending an unforgiving hit to a scrambling Hilyard's chest with her bamboo staff, knocking him sideways into Verene, where they both went down.

Even with heavy padding, a hit from Ahuda's bamboo staff is well-known to leave nasty bruises.

"You think you wouldn't've been taken last night?" she asked them, her staff sending another cove sprawling. "Not even when they hit you like this?" Once more she hit Hilyard, this time with her baton, which slid sideways into his ribs. He collapsed onto Verene, sending them to the ground with him on top, gasping. "Or this?" She got a second-year Dog named Phelan with her next blow, hitting him hard across the shoulders. Her baton moved so fast I barely saw it, and swung by to thwack him soundly behind the knees. Phelan yelped, pitching forward, and Beka and I both winced.

We'd no padding back there.

Quick as a snake, the bamboo staff was swung my way, the baton at Beka. We both blocked, but Ahuda twisted and send a hard kick into my side. I stumbled and watched from the corner of my eye as she twisted around Beka, and went easy on the hit she gave the side of my friends knee. Beka stumbled, but didn't fall. I ducked another blow from her bamboo staff, and took a baton to the shoulder as my own tried to get a smack on her wrist. It was futile, of course.

None of us were ever gong to be able to beat Ahuda in the training yard. Not until we was five-year Dogs or more, at least…maybe not even then.

Ahuda moved on to Ersken, and soon everyone was taught it's not nice to laugh at your fellows. She left us with no breath to laugh, anyways. I loved her for that, and for putting that relieved look in my best friends' eyes. I tossed an arm around Beka's shoulders when practice was over, and kissed her temple, as I would any of my siblings, before letting her go. Ersken walked over and hugged us both with an arm around our shoulders, and we mots immediately wrapped one of ours around his waist, squeezing in return.

"Fishpuppy's going to wear off, Beka," He told my friend soothingly, smiling. "The first time you startle them, they'll forget it entire. Besides," he added with a mischievous spark in his warm blue eyes, "if it hadn't been you, it would've been me. I went full-front into the gutter last night. I'd've been Slimepuppy for certain, if not for you." We two mots giggled, and hugged him again, before Beka freed herself of his arm, and I followed with a small smile. Beka is one of the most independent mots', though she's shyer then a fox when the nobles go a'hunting.

Beka's welcome into the kennel was as cheerful as that in the training yard. Dogs hooted and hollered, carrying on playful as four-legged puppies themselves! Jewel came over, gave me a wink, and grinned at my friend.

"Hello, Fishpuppy, guess you'll remember Rats have lookouts now, eh?" he said; I gave him a small frown, disapproving. Someone who thought they were funny cried out from the crowd:

"Fish for supper, anyone?" and the older Dogs had a right laugh. I snarled and let out a growl, which was not nearly as impressive as Jinglenob's, who bared his teeth. Jewel jumped out of the way, startled, and I stayed at Beka's side as we continued in. Immediately, though, she saw her Dogs and Mattes signaled her over. She went to them, and I started over to my own when Jinglenob gave a low woof and tugged lightly on his rope.

Shrugging, I allowed him to lead me over to Beka, where her black-furred and purple-eyed cat, Pounce, sat washing himself and looking smug. Jinglenob sat and lowered his head, giving the strange, god-touched (I believe) cat a polite sniff. Pounce gave a mreow, and Jinglenob huffed, before his tail wagged twice and he stood. I gave Clary and Mattes a nod, Beka a shrug and a smile, and led my brute over to my training Dogs. He seemed happy to go, and never once tried to move from my side.

"Puppy," Finch said coolly; Ferrows scowled darkly but nodded slightly. I nodded back and stood, Jinglenob sitting silent and alert at my side, without even a glimpse of the silly beast that'd been with me all day. It seemed he was ready for work as well.

"Muster up!" Ahuda bellowed minutes later; we all formed ranks. "First item. No word on Crookshank's great-grandchild from the assigned pairs on the three watches. Goodwin and Tunstall got some conversation there, including words with the grandmother and the mother. Nothing useful, but there may be more where that came from.

"Second item. Tonight's collection night. Birch and Vinehall, check each coin as it goes in your Happy Bag. No more counterfeits. Hobble anyone who slips fakes into your Bag. The rest of you, keep an eye on your coins, too." The two Dogs she mentioned imitated a gillyflower, their faces red. They'd brought bad coin to the kennel, which was bad, but it was even worse, because counterfeiters are worse then murderers. The kingdom's money could be worth as much a street scummer if they weren't caught. I made a mental note to warn Mama and my siblings, just in case. Bad coin is bad for everyone, but it can kill entire families.

"Well, you curs aren't filling Happy Bags sitting on your rumps," Ahuda barked, scowling. "Muster out. Not you, Tunstall, Goodwin, or you, Finch, Ferrows. Master Fulk has time for you now," She told Beka's Dogs. I caught the trade of sour faces between them, and met Beka's eyes with a sympathetic nod. Fulk the Nosepicker, we mot's called him. He liked to touch, and very few of us could break his fingers for it without being charged with insubordination. I don't care, though. He touches my rump or chest by "Accident" again, and I'll sic Jinglenob on him, or better yet, Kindle and my older brothers. They're mighty protective of my sisters and me, after all…

"I had to ask for him," Clary said, sounding ashamed. "If only so no one thinks we're holding back what rightfully should go in the Happy Bag for the split. You still have the sparkly, Fishpuppy?" Beka immediately dug a pretty stone from her pocket and offered it silently. Goodwin waved it away. "Give it to Fulk. Come on." I watched them walk away from the corner of my eye as my Dogs and I stepped in front of Ahuda's desk. Jinglenob remained silent and alert at my side, and met Ahuda's eyes silently as she eyed him, scowling.

"You're to go with Tunstall and Goodwin to the Court of the Rogue to get the Happy Bag tonight," she ordered; my Dogs scowled but nodded. She gave them a sharp look. "No complaints. You two never have true Happy Bags to collect, and you know it. You usually just take half the bribes you make and put them in. That's usually good enough, but with the new batch of Puppies, we need more people protecting the Bags, and they need to learn how Dogs get their pay. Deal with it," she said unsympathetically; Finch and Ferrows, faces dark, merely nodded and stalked away. I shrugged at Jinglenob and padded after them like the good little Puppy they told me to be.

Before we left the kennel, though, shrieks erupted from the small office that Fulk worked in. I restrained a grin, settling on a small smirk. It sounded like Master Pounce had done him a trick, and Jinglenob agreed, tail wagging lazily and tongue lolling in his usual vacant-eyed grin. He really did look like his namesake, when he did that…

We waited outside for Mattes, Clary, and Beka, my Dogs growling under their breaths as we did. Jinglenob just leaned against me, relaxed, his amber-yellow eyes alertly trailing around Jane Street. I scratched him idly between the ears, free hand resting on my baton. Finally, the three came out, Master Pounce a little ways behind them.

Mattes and Clary were talking, after Clary had handed Mattes some coin, likely betting on something Beka would or wouldn't do. They were talking, quiet-like, about something, Mattes stroking his short beard. Beka looked a little forlorn, but before I could sign to her to ask what was wrong, Pounce came padding towards her with a muffled yowl. He looked rather smug, though most cats look that way, and dropped something on Beka's shoe.

As my Dogs and I approached, Mattes slowly bent down and picked it up. Beka looked like she was trying to be a statue, her ghost-eyes a little wide as Mattes used his water bottle to rinse slime and who-knew-what-else from the sparkly from earlier. Both of her Dogs had a peculiar look on their face as they stared first at Beka, then Pounce. It was a look I was familiar with, as Beka herself often wore it when her purple-eyed cat did sommat un-catlike.

"He's _just_ a cat? You're no mage or anything?" Clary finally asked after she'd been quiet for too long. "Don't look at me, just answer Cooper." She added, already familiar with my friend's shyness.

"I found him in my Lord Provost's stable loft, Guardswoman," Beka said, being as polite as she could… which was rather polite, having spent eight years at my lords house, with his Stormwing of a wife to deal with. "He was a purple-eyed kitten. And you'd have heard if I was a mage." I nodded, though none of them but Beka saw me, and she flashed me a small, relieved look, which I returned with a wink.

"He does strange things often, does he?" Finch asked; Beka nodded, eyes going to her cat.

"Often enough, sir," she replied, bending to scoop her cat up.

"Were there portents when you were born?" Mattes asked, for all the world acting as if he asked these things every day. "Eclipses, eagles in the birth chamber, things like that?" Beka blinked at him, startled, and looked him in the eye without hesitation.

"My papa lost a copper noble piece, betting I'd be a boy," she said; I grinned at the familiar tale, amused. "Mama says it was the last big coin Papa ever had." My Dogs smirked, amused, and Clary took the stone from Mattes and dried it in her tunic.

"Why don't you and-" She paused, glanced at the cat.

"Pounce," Beka supplied.

"Pounce," Clary replied. "Why don't you two guard this for a while? Whilst Tunstall and me see if someone trustworthy can tell us about it. Because now we know one thing. If Fulk wants this bad enough to lie and keep it to himself, then mayhap Crookshank's grandson Herun was right. Mayhap there is money in these things, and Crookshank is up to something." Mattes was nodding.

"And maybe got his grandson killed," he said; I scowled at the reminder of a dead babe, but put it aside. I'd see plenty more, in this line of work. I watched as they made they exchange, using Beka putting Pounce down and Clary checking her boot as a cover. Instantly, when he was loosed, the black cat padded over and rubbed against Jinglenob's foreleg, purple eyes gleaming up at me with smugness, and I crouched to scratch him behind the ears with a smile. Jinglenob woofed softly at him, but otherwise didn't move.

"Now. Let's get to work, girls and boys," Mattes said, smiling lazily. "It's time to shake the tree. You're with us, right?" He glanced at Finch and Ferrows, who nodded, and then the four Dogs set off, me and Beka, and our followers, following from behind. As we walked, Beka and I caught up in hand-signals. She explained the Fishpuppy Incident (as it shall be known), and I told her about the riots. I also told her about the nobleman this morning, and the four gold nobles. She signed a congrats, and we walked on without signing, companionably silent.

We walked west of Nightmarket and its thriving street-life, and the Market of Sorrows, where slaves are sold. Beka and I hate it, for different reasons. Mine is for bad memories; her reason is because we _both_ remember that too many families from Mutt Piddle Lane, and Fishbin Avenue, went there to sell their extra children.

I'll never get used to child-sized manacles.

We walked up Koskynen Street, turned away from Sorrows, and headed steadily deeper, into the Cesspool, where Beka's and mine birth-streets/homes both lay. There are no street torches, except those provided by brothels, drinking dens, and outdoor gambling. The houses here were just as I remember: kept together with rope and magic charms. Jinglenob growled at nearby pigs that rooted around in the garbage, all of them rail-thin. Hard and hollow-eyed people that had no place to go held these streets at night.

Children swarmed us, begging for a copper, calling my by name as they tugged my clothes, pleading. Beka winced slightly, and I knew her pain. Once, we'd been among these scraps. Some of my siblings still ran with them. They knew I wasn't new meat, but they didn't know Beka. They were too young.

So, I wasn't surprised when she twirled her baton around her in circles, moving them back. One, a little gixie with a black eye and a split lip, clung to my hand, staring up at me with pleading brown eyes. I slipped her three coppers as Beka spoke softly in Cesspool cant to the little ones, and they ran off, unused to Dog's speakin' their way. The little gixie disappeared with them, but I gave no tell that she'd gotten some coin from me. Our Dogs had stopped, and now eyed Beka, their faces a study.

"You do that very well," Clary commented; Beka ducked her head. "Fishpuppy, I'm talking to you," Clary said, voice sharp with warning; Beka looked up and met her eyes.

"Eight years we lived on Mutt Piddle Land, Guardswo-"

"_Goodwin,_" Clary corrected, frowning at her. "I suppose you have family around here still?" She asked; Beka nodded.

"Yes, Guar—Goodwin. My Granny, a few blocks from here." Clary nodded, once.

"I was told something of the kind," she said finally. "But it's one thing to hear the gossip and another to hear your own Puppy talking like a Cesspool Rat. How many more secrets have you got, Cooper?" I watched, slightly amused, as Beka thought _that_ over, lips slightly pursed.

"Very few, Goodwin," she finally said; Clary nodded.

"Good," she said, turning to walk away. "I hate secrets. Don't talk Cesspool cant anymore," she added, glancing over her shoulder as we once more started walking. "You're a Dog, not a Rat." She set off with Mattes and my Dogs beside her, me and Beka, with Pounce and Jinglenob, following close behind. I consolingly patted my friend on the shoulder, and she shrugged with a small smile at me.

Half a block west on Festive Lane was a big black stone house. It was a noble's house, once upon a time. When the nobles moved on, merchants took it. When _they _moved on, it served for a courthouse, for a time. Then as a kennel. For a long while it was the home to dozens of poor families. Now, though, guards in leather armor stood watch around the ten-foot-high wall, crossbows trained on the open ground in front of them. Torches blazed in iron holders all around the wall, and on the building inside. Guards on the gate opened it to admit us without so much as a challenge, though they gave my two Dogs unfriendly looks when they were spotted.

So, the Rogue expected us.

Once inside, we walked down a hall filled with petitioners, armsmen on watch for trouble, thieves, rushers (some of which I knew), them that sell their bodies (both spintries and doxies), and the children of the folk who share the building with Rogue Kayfer. I knew that, under all the dirt and smoke stains, the place had been beautiful once.

Before I could take in more of the building, though, a lean spintry in naught but a loincloth decided to amuse himself by teasing the Puppies. My Dogs smirked at me, amused, as the cove beckoned to Beka and me, flexing well-oiled and hard chest muscles. I admired him, though Beka looked away. It was, after all, a _very_ tight loincloth. Finally (sadly), Clary stepped in, eyes glinting with amusement.

"They're on duty, my buck," she told the spintry. "Find yourself another playmate." He smiled and turned his come-hither gaze on her, and I shrugged with a small smile.

"I'll settle for you, flower," he said, looking her up and down meaningfully. "I love full-blown roses, who know what a man is for." I bit back a snort, shoulders shaking in silent laugher. This man did _not_ know how to use poetry to get what he wanted, though he tried…

"I have a man," Clary informed him, "a _real_ man. One that doesn't break when I play with him." The grin she gave him made her teeth flash; the spintry shrugged and sauntered away, not put out in the least. After all, it was all play for him when it came to Dogs. If he got one as a customer, he'd just get his payment, though I knew instantly by the looks of him that he was far from cheep.

Beka's ghost-eyes found the familiar face of Mistress Deirdry Noll, an old competitor of my Mama's, and she cleared her throat. Mattes and Clary moved over there with Beka in tow, to ask after her, but I remained with my Dogs. I had no inclination to be bothered by that old shrew. She put on a friendly face but her fists spoke truer then her mouth ever did. My siblings and I used to bear the marks to prove it, before she managed to get a place in the Daymarket and Nightmarket, six months before Mama got her own place.

My Dogs wandered a little ways away to chat with a rusher or two, while I waited patiently with my brute. I watched from beneath my lashes as Mistress Noll left Mattes, Clary and Beka to go to her beckoning son, Yates, a nasty sewer Rat if ever there was, though not as nasty as some. I looked down at Jinglenob and smiled thinly. His amber-yellow eyes met mine, and seemed to say, "_It could be worse_". I wonder, now, if he's not a bit touched, like Beka's Pounce. I had no time to wonder, then, for my Dogs were stalking after Beka's as they headed for the Rogue's Throne Room. Finch snapped his fingers and pointed to the ground next to him, and Jinglenob and I both took up residence in that place like good little Puppies should, coming to Heel when our Master calls.

It leaves a nasty taste in my throat just thinking that.

The Rogue's Throne Room must once have been the Great Hall when the nobles held the building. The Rogue's chiefs' sat at tables to one side, their rushers and doxies about them, like flies circling a rubbish barrel. And there, sitting on a raised platform that was even with the hearth, sat the old Rogue himself. Kayfer Deerborn, a man once feared by his male subjects while sought after by the female. Now he is just an idol, something too old to be worth anything, and yet kept in place by the power of his paid-off chieftains.

How the mighty have fallen, Kindle used to tell me, when he brought me here when I was but a wee gixie. I remembered it well; for all that I rested safely on his lap behind one of the tables, near Ulsa, who is his chief even now. I sent the man I love as a father a small smile and nod at where he sat, now, beside the female chieftain, before clearing my face into its steady, serene mask as I followed my Dogs dutifully.

Deerborn sat upon his macabre throne of crates, wooden barrels, and broken furniture and spoke to a dark-skinned Carthaki woman in a shirt and breeches. Tattoos whirled around her eyes and ruby studs shined in the rim of her ears. I believe she was a slave trader. Two more Carthaki's waited at her back, to the side and off of the platform. One wore a slave collar and held the leashes for two muscled mastiffs. He was even more muscled then they were. But even as large as they were, I was rather proud to note that both dogs were nearly half the size of my Jinglenob…

I had long ago fixed the Rogue into my memory. From his bright blue eyes surrounded in lines, to his balding brown head and flabby body. His smile was nice enough, but the thing that had always stuck with me was his ring, a typical thing for a Cesspool brat's mind to lock onto. It was a gold ring, with a sparkling sapphire the size of a pigeon's egg. There were stories about how he got it, but I just love how it sparkles…

Deerborn clapped the slaver on the shoulder; she nodded, took off a purse on her belt, but was either smart enough or polite enough not to just hand it to him. Instead one of his mots led her, and her two men, to a small room on the other side of the hearth. We watched as the Rogue beckoned to one of his standing chiefs.

"We get to wait," Mattes murmured, lips barely moving. "It's how he proves he's still the Rogue." My Dogs sneered.

"Some Rogue," A new voice drawled from behind us. I twitched and turned my head, eyes narrowed at the bone-pale cove and the two ladies with him, all three sitting against the wall. He was a handsome fellow, with a lean body and scarred hands. His hair was nearly as white as mine is, and his eyes are dark. He was somewhere in his early twenties, at least.

One of the mots was Scanran, tall and blond two or three years older then me. She, too, was rather handsome, though I'm no honeylove, and mots aren't my kind of lover. She sat on the cove's left, one sword-callused hand dangling from her propped-up knee. The hand matched to the sword at her hip, and I knew she likely had loads of practice with the blade.

The other mot was also pretty, a brunette about Beka's height, of mixed blood. She looked sleek as a cat, ankles crossed as she fingered her dress as if shy. But I saw her hands were in the perfect positions to grab either her knife or the coins knotted in crimson thread that hung from her belt. Bit of magic in her, and it made me wary.

"Now, laddybuck," Clary said, friendly as a rat about to eat her young, "why don't you tell me what kind of lively you're looking for?" She smiled, but t'wasn't very nice. "I'll direct you where to find it, away from Corus." He gave her a smile that matched her own, before his dark eyes danced over Mattes, then my Dogs, and finally trailed over Beka and I. Jinglenob lolled his tongue and woof softly, deeply at him, barring his teeth in a semi-friendly way.

Silly mutt.

The pretty brunette nudged him with her shoulder, amused fondness flickering across her features.

"Stop it, Rosto," she said. "Fidget someone who fidgets you back." She nodded at Clary. "He's Rosto the Piper. I'm Kora, and that's Aniki." The swordwoman-blond raised a lazy hand in greeting. "We heard life was more…interesting…in Corus, so here we are." She gave Clary a smile that was much friendlier then the one the Corporal Dog gave her.

"Scavengers always come looking when they hear of a feast," Finch drawled, body held in a lazily aggressive pose, copied by Ferrows unconsciously. I just barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes in exasperation, but at least I _did_ stop myself.

"So far it's been long put off," Ferrows said in reply to Finch, cocking his head to the side. Clary nodded, though she gave the two a slightly irritated look.

"Kayfer-his chiefs-have done away with any challengers," she acknowledged absently, eying the foreigners. Rosto smirked cockily, and it added to his handsomeness… Something the cove probably knew and used shamelessly.

"Oh, we're not looking to challenge," he told us easily. "We hope to be entertained. Scanra was that bare of entertainment." Pounce had returned as he spoke, and padded his princely way over to Aniki, who seemed to be pleased with the attention from the handsome cat.

"Here's a fine-looking cat," she announced. "A very handsome, elegant-" She suddenly gulped, and Jinglenob leaned against me, tail thumping my calf hard, twice, in amusement. She'd caught sight of the cats purple eyes.

"Purple eyes," Kora said quietly. "Odd-colored eyes in a creature mean it's god-touched." She leaned forward to pet Beka's cat, who I knew had a soft spot for mages, and I smiled slightly as he bumped his head firmly against her hand, purring.

"He's the Puppy's," Clary said absently, nodding at Beka as she watched them. "He's a clever beast." Pounce gave a ripple of _mrts_, his laughter, though I don't think any but Beka and I knew that… Rosto looked behind us, his eyebrows shooting up and face becoming interested.

"Hello. What's this?" He wondered; we turned to look… And I almost choked, eyes widening, as Crookshank himself, gaunt, unshaven, and hollow-eyed, walked into the Throne Room. His narrow leggings were wrinkled, as if he'd slept in them, but his knee-length tunic was a little better. His black hair was snarled, wild-looking, as if he'd dragged his hands through it once too often of late. Two of his manservants followed him, empty sword and dagger scabbards at their belts. The guards had taken their weapons…

Well, at least they're competent enough for _that_.

Mattes left off talking to Ulsa and walked lazily over to stand by Clary and Beka. Clary rose from her crouch, and my Dogs shifted, hands resting absently on the butts of their batons. Jinglenob was still and alert at my side, yellow-amber eyes focused with the intensity of the fighting-dog he was. Beka and I shifted to our Dogs elbows, her to Clary's, and me to Ferrows. Aniki, who was closest to Beka, gave her a small wink as I focused my attention on Crookshank and the Rogue

"Kayfer, you two-faced scummer, we was _partners_!" The scale screeched like a scalded cat. "Even a sucking leech like you shoulda been content wi' your share, you greedy-gutted spintry!" Deerborn stood on his platform, rubbing the top of his head, face a mixture of calm and slight confusion.

"I beg you, Ammon, calm down," he said, voice soothing. "Whatever your grievance wi' me, we can surely sort it out."

"Grievance? You call my great-grandson's murder a grievance?" Crookshank yowled, pointing at Deerborn, bony finger trembling near as much as the rest of him, eyes wild. "What kind of monster takes a wee child from his family and murders 'im for profit? Did you think you could hide behind notes smuggled into my house and I would not suspect you?" Now the Rogue stepped down from his platform, and my Players side admired the mask of sorrow he wore as he reached out with his hands in a pleading motion.

"Ammon, I know it is your grief that makes you say these things," he said, voice still that soothing tone. Crookshank's eyes twitched and spasmed like a frightened horse in their sockets.

"Butter just melts on 'is tongue, doesn't it," Rosto murmured from behind me.

"Bad laddie," Aniki told him. "Hush. Listen to a master work." Beka glanced at Clary and saw, as I did, that the female Dog's lips twitched at the corners. If I knew Clary, and after these last years I'm willin' ta bet that I do, I knew that she found these three rascals to her liking. Come to think of it, so do I. Lips curling in my own, small smile, I returned my attention to the two powerful men standing there. It was our very own bit of Players jollity, without us having to pay a single copper.

"Of course it's my grief, Stormwings take your eyes!" Crookshank screamed, spittle dotting his chin now. "Your Shadow Snake murdered my Rolond, when he was not in our business!" Tears rolled down his face, and my heart clenched in sympathy, though I far from liked him. I've said before and I'll say again, and again hereafter: No One deserves to loose a child.

"Ammon, the Shadow Snake is a bogey to frighten children," Deerborn said, voice as smooth as warm oil, and his tone changing slightly, so it was as if he was speaking to one such child. "You must be cracked spun with grievin', to say I'd deal with a monster out of tales. And as for me of all folk sendin' anyone t' harm a _child_…" His voice cracked when he uttered the last word. "Ammon, I swear on the names of my own grandbabies, I did not do it." Deerborn's blue eyes were locked and steady on Crookshank's brown ones, never wavering. Not a muscle of his mouth twitched to give away a lie. I knew, after watching him from Kindles lap, that even the Rogue had tells when he lied, and none of them showed. I believed him. Soothingly, he continued,

"In the name of the Bright Mithros and the Goddess herself, I swear it. I would never bring such harm to any family of yours. We depend on each other, old friend. I never conjured up a nightmare like the Snake. I never gave the task of murderin' your little cove t' any of my chiefs. My chiefs would never do such a thing at my biddin'."

"Curst right we would not!" Dawull, the huge red-headed chief of the Waterfront District on both side of the river, cried from his seat. He looks almost to be Kindles brother, though my Mama's man is much better then he'd ever be. If ever there was an uprising amongst the chieftains, and someone decided to finally kill Deerborn off, it would be Dawull who took the seat. Deerborn shot him a glare for his outcry, but Dawull merely smirked confidently. My eyes returned to Crookshank, and I frowned, beginning to worry for the frail-looking old man. He snarled and spat at Deerborn's feet.

"Liar!" He snarled, and glared around the room at everyone. "You're leeches, living off the rest of us and feeding this oathbreaker!" Exhaustion made his voice rasp, and I shifted forward slightly on instinct, my years of caring for my little siblings making me want to go and comfort the cracked old scale. Finch and Ferrows shot me silent, calculating looks, but I ignored my Dogs, eyes pinned on the two men.

"Look at the lot of you!" Crookshank yelled, whirling to glare furiously at us, hands swung wide to encompass the room. "Sitting here lapping up drink and food like caged birds. I curse him. If you take his orders and protect his throne, then I curse you in Rolond's name. You best mind your children!" I stiffened, eyes narrowing slightly, and Jinglenob growled lowly in reply to my body's action.

"Crookshank, you're mad!" Ulsa cried, Kindle now standing at her side, eyes sharp and watchful. "There is no such creature as the Shadow Snake!" As Deerborn snapped his fingers, calling forth his rushers, Ferrows nudged me. I glanced at him, watching from the corner of my eye as four rushers seize Crookshank's guards.

"You've dealt with tantrum-holdin' brats," he said, a light sneer on his face. He pointed at the grief-stricken and furious man, blue eyes mocking. "Fetch, Puppy." I stared at him, huffed, and dropped Jinglenob's cord, walking carefully, slowly forward. Another rusher had grabbed Crookshank by the arm, careful-like, as he looked so old and frail in this state…

"It's a terrible thing what's happened. We all are sick with sorrow for it," Deerborn said, stepping closer as I cautiously approached from the side. "But why you, Ammon?" Why might someone callin' himself the Shadow Snake target your house, your family? What tidbit has come into your hands of late? Why have you not offered a taste to your Rogue?" I winced at the sudden lack of tact in a man who ruled and was surrounded by tongue-twisting coves and mots, and lunged forward with a speeding Rosto as Crookshank lunged at the Rogue with a knife he'd pulled from the fold of his tunic. The chieftains lunged to their feet, roaring.

Rosto got there first, by a mere second or two, plucking the blade nimbly from the old mans hands, and I swiftly had my body between Crookshank's and the Rogues, wrapping my arms around the screaming, furious man, setting my chin against his shoulder as he struggled feebly, soon sagging and clutching me close, weeping furiously. I held him, rocking lightly, as Rosto deftly searched him for more blades, and didn't blink as he slipped a pouch of some sort into his boot. He'd passed the blade to one of Deerborn's men.

Tilting my body, I deftly maneuvered the weeping, exhausted man away from the Rogue, giving him a light nod and blank smile as I moved away. Crookshank continued to clutch me. I hummed softly to him, a lullaby Mama had always sung to us when we had nightmares, and watched as Beka conveniently tangled her baton in Rosto's legs, sending them down in a tumble. They struggled, Beka babbling apologies and Rosto getting a little flustered and cursing. I hardly saw her slide the stolen pouch away as she finally allowed him to get them untangled.

Dawull and a handful of guards came to collect Crookshank and, stroking his sweaty head soothingly, like Mama used to do us, I gently passed him on. He slumped, boneless, in the arms of two guards as Dawull lead them out. I straightened my tunic with a light tug, purposefully wiped my hands on my jeans, and let out a chirruping whistle. Jinglenob bounded over to my side and I scooped up the end of his rope, and padded easily back to my Dogs, coming up behind Deerborn as he passed them on his way to Rosto, who was being fussed over by his amused mots. The Rogue offered his hand as I fell into place behind Finch and Ferrows, giving Beka a wink and small smile.

Rosto took his hand and shook firmly. Aniki's hands fell on her sword belt naturally. Kora folded her hands and lowered her eyes, hiding behind thick lashes.

"The least I could do, Majesty. I saw the knife's shape against the old cuckoo's tunic. Sad work your guards done searching 'im, you ask me." And so saying, I take back what I wrote earlier. Those guards _were_ incompetent. Deerborn's smile was all friendliness and warm charm.

"You've a good eye. Are you and your gixies here lookin' for work? My gate crew goes for a swim tonight, unless they convince me they can make their way back into my good graces as wounded mumpers." Beka and I both winced at the same time. Death or life as a maimed beggar awaited those guards, and what competency they had shown was now a moot point.

Poor sods…

"Majesty, you're not talking of breaking the law in violence before six Dogs, are you?" Mattes asked, voice all polite as if he was speaking in a temple. Ferrows nodded, slouching lazily, blue eyes sharp and watchful, friendly thin.

"Aye, Majesty," he drawled. "'Cause we can't 'ave tha' on our watch. Not when we're standin' right 'ere." I blinked lazily as Jinglenob shifted his weight. Deerborn looked at Mattes then Ferrows, and laughed, looking genuinely-and smugly-amused with the Dogs.

"Never a bit, Mattes Tunstall, Barbric Ferrows. Why don't you two and your partners come wi' me t' finish our business in a mo'. Maybe extra sweetenin' will make it into this week's Happy Bag, to assure you I'd never do violence with the Dogs out…" He turned his blue eyes and charm on me, and I found my lips twitching into a small smile as recognition flew over his face and his smile widened. "Well, would you look at that! Little Kienta Bails, all grown up and kilted as a Puppy! Such a shame you're not a wanderin' my Court like when you's was little, gixie. We miss your dances at times." He winked at me, and I gave a silent laugh and a shallow, slightly-playful bow. Jinglenob woofed at him, tongue lolling as the tension slid away a bit.

"Dancing?" Finch drawled, eyes narrowing on me, and I shrugged at him with a small smile as Deerborn nodded.

"Oh, aye, Godric Finch. This one was th' best dancer to enter my halls when she was a wee gixie. Pretty as a flower, and more so now then ever." His smile had a hint of lechery and a load of charm, and I gave him an amused but slightly distant smile. He chuckled and shook his head. "Ah, but to see another dance now that you're all grown up," he murmured, then chuckled again and turned to our Dogs. "But we've business. Kienta can stay here with your Puppy," he added to Mattes and Clary, giving Beka a dismissive look. "She doesn't look like she'll last." Beka's jaw clenched so tight I grew a'feared for her teeth.

As the Dogs followed the aging Rogue, I knelt to scratch and roughhouse a bit with Jinglenob as Beka slid into the rest position, baton gripped two-handed before her, feet braced a forearm's width apart, as proper… I should have been in the same position, but Jinglenob had been such a good pup, I thought he could use the extra attention. I watched idly as Rosto slid up, sneaky-like, next to my friend.

"A nice trick, lifting that pouch from me." Beka tilted her head to watch the handsome troublemaker from the corner of her eye, muscles in her shoulders tensing lightly. "If you're a Fishpuppy like the gossip says, it's because you're so slippery. I don't suppose you'd take a silver noble to tell me what it is, once your Dogs have a look? From the feel it's gems, but never hurts to be certain." I hid my grin as Beka's head snapped up, her pretty ghost-eyes snapping fury at him, before her head snapped away, eyes down, just as fast. Rosto's eyes turned as mocking as his voice as he continued, thumbs hooking into the top of his leggings nonchalantly.

"Not taking offence over a bit of bribery, are you? On the very night your Dogs are here to collect their bribes from the Rogue?" I growled softly, but the insult was Beka's point of breakin' as well, for her voice, quiet and stiff and still sharp like a whip, slid from her slightly bowed head.

"That's different. That's for all the work every one of us does, to keep the streets orderly. _You're_ asking me to sell out my Dogs." Rosto rocked back, looking slightly startled, and I narrowed my eyes when he did, and tensed, ready to move.

"Hel-lo! It has a bark _and_ a bite!" He still sounded startled, even as he stared at my friend narrowly. "Here I was thinking you're a mousy little bit. But you're not mousy, are you?" His hand shot forward, and Beka and I moved at the same time. She blocked his arm before he could slap her, and got a grip on his wrist, digging her thumbnail deep into the tendon there. As she did this, I'd slid one of my blades into my hand, and pinned it firmly against the coves throat, face blank and hard. I didn't let _anyone_ disrespect my friends like that.

"_Ow_," he said, trying to yank his hand free while trying to avoid getting cut. Beka had her hand held so that, the harder he pulled, the deeper her nail bit. Jinglenob, growling, sat on the coves feet and bared his teeth right in front of his jewels. It's safe to say Rosto fell still, eyes wary as he grimaced in pain.

"Rosto, you take shy as fearful. Why would a coward become a Dog? There's easier ways for a pretty gixie to make a living." Aniki propped one elbow on Rosto's collarbone and leaned on him like he was a convenient post. I shifted my blade so that I didn't knick the blond swordwoman. She smiled down at Beka and me, amused. "Normally he's not thick about mots, but he's slow when they're not in love with him. Me and Kora had to knock him around until he got us figured out. Say you're sorry, Rosto, and don't try to bribe the nice Puppy again."

"I'm sorry, alright? I'm _bleeding_." As my blade wasn't pressed _that_ tight, I could only assume it was from Beka's hold. I didn't look, though, in case it was some ploy to distract me. I sensed movement as Beka pulled away, and waited until she was out of arms reach before following, blade slipping silently into its sheath as I watched the Scanran prettyboy carefully.

"Two days as a Dog and I've had my first bribe offer. I think it's a record," Beka said, eyes meeting Aniki's. The swordwoman laughed and cuffed Rosto lightly.

"She's shy, cabbage head, not stupid," she told him; Rosto held a handkerchief to his wrist, watching Beka and I carefully.

"So I'm learning. What's your name, then, shy-not-stupid Puppy?" I grinned in amusement. "And your name as well, blade Puppy?" he added, sending me a small smirk. I huffed and tilted my head at Beka, who nodded at me in silence.

"Beka Cooper," she said stiffly. "And this is Kienta Bails. She's mute; so don't bother trying to talk to her when she's in uniform. You can, and someone who knows her hand-signals can translate, but" she shrugged. "Sometimes Kienta just doesn't want to talk." Movement at Beka's side caught my eye even as I gave them a friendly wave when Rosto and Aniki looked at me. Jinglenob, having been forgotten for all that he was a snap away from the cove's gems, woofed softly and padded back to me. Kora appeared at Beka's side, cuddling Pounce in her arms as I knelt to ruffle my brute's ears, smiling as he licked my cheek and cuddled against me heavily.

"I heard folk say last night that your mother was an herbalist." Kora said, her voice soft and pretty, her dark eyes demure, as she spoke to Beka. "So then you might be able to tell me where I could get good dried and fresh herbs, the reliable sellers? We're still learning our way around. With so many markets I hardly know where to look." I zoned out as Beka and the three foreigners began to talk about herbs, smiling as, minutes later, Kindle ambled over from Ulsa's side.

"Look at ya, m'gixie!" he crowed, lifting me easily in a hug as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "All decked out like a proper Dog." He chuckled and set me down when I swatted his shoulder, and then knelt to ruffle my dog's ears, giving them a rough scratch. "And here's Jinglenob! How are you faring as a Puppy's pet, eh, Jinglenob?" My silly brute just lolled his tongue, giving a huge, goofy-looking doggy-grin that had Kindle laughing a deep, belly laugh. "Aye, you're a fit pup for _my_ Pup! You watch over her, eh?" He gave my dog one last rough scratch and straightened. He peered at a watching Rosto, Aniki, and Kora, then gave a big grin at Beka, who smiled bashfully.

"If it ain't wee Beka! I haven't seen you since you an' Kienta were wee gixies playin' in the Cesspool streets!" He scooped her up in one of his great big bear-hugs, making her give a little, amusing squeak, and set her down again. "Yez grown to a pretty young mot, lil' Beka." He winked. "Bet yez breaking coves hearts along with their nobs, eh?" He boomed out another laugh as Beka blushed and ducked her head, mortified and embarrassed. I giggled silently, grinning at my friend and stepfather.

"You're a rusher here, right?" Rosto asked him, dark eyes bright and sharp; Kindle nodded, face still lit with amusement as he turned to face the light-haired cove.

"Aye," he replied cheerfully.

"Then mayhap you could tell me," Rosto continued amicably enough; my eyes narrowed instantly on the foreigner, wariness creeping upon me. If his nosiness got Kindle in trouble, I'd skin the cracknob looby meself! "How quick is this Rogue to wield the whip?" Kindle stiffened, friendly expression stilting, and I was at his side immediately, eyes narrowed at Rosto and Dagger twirling in my hands in warning. Subtlety was the game one played when unfriendly ears and eyes laid in wait for one to slip up. "That Crookshank fellow. What did the Rogue call him?"

"Ammon," Beka said, replying on what seemed like reflex. "That's his birth name, Ammon Lofts. In the streets he's Crookshank, scale and landlord."

"Ammon Lofts," Rosto repeated the name, seemingly committing it to memory. "Him. Your Rogue daren't let him go unpunished, can he? Not after Master Lofts called Crookshank spits at his feet in front of his whole court." His dark eyes are sharp on Kindle, and the two coves eye one another in silence for a mo', while tension gathers in my stomach, making it clench and roll in a mightily unpleasant way. Kindle had to answer very carefully, or risk being called traitor and doused or worse. Finally, my Papa seemed to relax, and smiled in an almost careless way at the blond cove, scar pulled taut on his face.

"Yez'd have to ask the Rogue, lad," he replied easily. I cocked my head, and signaled to him when he looked askance at me. "Kienta wants to know how it was done in Scanra," he willingly translated, and I gave him a warm smile, before turning my eyes onto Rosto.

"Right there and then," he answered me. "The one time I saw it done. Poor fool was drunk. Not that it stopped our Rogue." He went on with the story, with Kora helping when he forgot bits. Eyes bright, I leaned my head against Kindles chest, snuggling under the arm he had draped over my shoulders as we listened. I always did have a weakness for a good story, and these foreigners knew how to Play… Alas, Beka and my Dogs all returned, Happy Bags in tow, and we bid farewell to the three rascals and Kindle, before padding out of the door after our respective Dogs.

As we left the house, though, my skin grew all a'tingled as it felt as if every Rat and mouse alike had set their glims upon us six and our prizes. Anxious and wary, I shifted a step closer to my Dogs, eyes searching the shadows as Jinglenob growled lowly in response to the tension that sent my muscles to stiffness. Finch and Ferrows sent me feral smirks with enough battle-ready blood-lust in them to set the hairs on the nape of my neck to attention, and had me quivering like a hound about to be let loose on the hunt. The Rogues Happy Bags, after all, had more then just the coin in bribes paid to the Jane Street Kennel. They had gems, statues, magical devises, and other such sparklies that would go to helping Dogs and their families. And if they could, any Rat with any sense would give his or her hand to get the other one on the entire load.

"Stop sweating, Puppy," Clary ordered Beka as the gates closed behind us. "It's a thing of pride, to go in there and come out on our own. The Rogue's always known that, if anything happens to the Dogs who call for the Happy Bags, his stronghold will be ash by dawn." The other three Dogs nodded in agreement.

"Some laws a madman breaks," Finch remarked, looking back and giving me and Beka a nasty look. "Be we aren't stupid," he told us, for all as if I'd come out and told him to his face that I thought him so (though here I will admit that at times he _is_ sarden thick, but most men can be…). Silence reigned as we walked. A block away, five Dogs with horses waited for us. Three were mounted and armed with crossbows, but while Beka seemed to recognize them (one especially from the cheeky grin he shot her) I knew only the two who waited on foot, who took the bags from Mattes and Ferrows.

"They manage their first visit with the Rogue and his milk-geldings?" one asked, looking at us Puppies.

"Ours did well for us. We'll keep her," Mattes told him simply, while Ferrows snorted.

"Ours 'as apparently graced 'is Court many a times," he said, shooting me a dark look. "As a _dancer_ of all things…But we'll keep 'er as well," he decided, shaking his head with a vaguely disgusted expression. Mattes shook his head and Clary rolled her eyes slightly.

"Run along, children," she told them. "We have work to do yet. And Ahuda doesn't like to wait." We watched as they trotted off into the darkness, the only sound between us Jinglenob's cheerful panting, before Clary spoke.

"So, did he try to bribe either of you? Rosto?" She asked idly; I shook my head at the sidelong glance my Dogs sent me, but Beka confirmed the attempt.

"He wanted to know what was in the thing he took from Crookshank," she told her Dogs.

"We'll have a look over supper," Mattes declared; I gave him a fond smile. Always thinking with his stomach, that one. "_Very_ nice work with the baton, Cooper," he added as they started away, waving goodbye to my Dogs as we turned to take a different street.

"You've a good 'our or five a'fore yer supper, Puppy," Ferrows, said, sending me a hard smile. "Let's go see 'ow many more bribes we can get inta the Bags tonigh', and what nob's we'll 'ave ta crack ta get 'em!" His cant got a bit thicker the more he talked about it, and Finch grinned, hand landing heavily on the grip of his baton. I nodded followed them into the Cesspool. The next few hours were a blur of adrenalin and pain as we bullied our way through three brawls, chased down a child-thief (who thought offering me ten silver nobles would get him out of trying to sell one of the children I often babysat, and six of that ten went to my Dogs while another one went to a too-thin mumper and her wailing babe), caught a man trying to murder his mistress when he caught _her_ cheating on him with another _woman_, stopped two attempted rapes, an illegal child-auction, and finally ended in a pair of sarden hotblood wine-soaked river dodgers tryin' ta crack me nob!

I ended up with a badly aching body and more cuts, bumps, and bruises then I had skin left to deal with. Supper at the Mantel and Pullet was more then welcome, and I eagerly and tiredly dug into my plate of roast, potatoes, beans, and a hot roll. T'wasn't Mama's, but at the moment it was divine compared to the taste of scummer and blood that dusted my mouth like a coat of fur. My Dogs ate their own food and drank their ale without pause for conversation, and I took a gulp of my cold barley water (something that had earned me a scowl, but had been given to me quick enough when Ferrows had snarled like Jinglenob at a Rat to the Barkeep) as I finished my roll, and slumped tiredly in my seat, hand falling limply onto Jinglenob's head. The serving maid had more then willingly handed over some meat for two coppers from my own purse which I'd handed over without hesitation. He'd finished it and now sat with his great old nob in my lap, drooling on my pants, yellow-amber eyes all big and wet as like he was a starvin' mumper that never had a decent meal in his life.

Silly brute…

I gave him the last of the roast on my plate, stomach too full to deal with it, and dozed for a bit to the taverns noise.

"Puppy," Ferrows said sharply, and I lifted my head from the table quickly, before I could fall asleep, blinking my unswollen eye at the two of them as they stared at me, eyes narrowed. I sat up, body aching, and I can't but thank the gods for the fact that my body's well-used to hard labor, else I don't think I'd even be able to move.

"We've a bone ta pick with you, Puppy Bails," Ferrows said slowly, face hard; I blinked, but nodded, setting my hands on the table and locking my eyes on them, waiting. "We don't like the fact that yer chummy with the Rogue an' 'is pox-infested Rats," he said plainly, bluntly; I didn't change expression, staying as serene and blank as possible, which is easy when half my poor face is black and blue.

"But you see, Puppy," Finch said, leaning forward on his elbows, black eyes serious. "We've decided that, for a ducknob mute that is, you're an alright enough Pup, good in a fight, at least, and so we've decided to keep you." He scowled, and I'd be a liar if I said it didn't chill my marrow when he leaned forward and breathed his ale-stained breath in my face, and I set a hand quickly on Jinglenob's head when I felt him begin to vibrate in a low growl against my thighs. "I don't like secrets, Puppy," he growled at me, baring his teeth like the dog that lay on my lap. "However," he said, abruptly flopping back to sprawl in his chair and sneer at me as Ferrows passed him his refilled jack of ale. "Everyone's got a few secrets, eh, Barbric?" He sent a look at Ferrows, who chuckled and swigged back half his drink without pause, swiping his arm across his mouth immediately afterwards.

"Oh, aye, Godric," he drawled, chuckling, and shook his head. "Lots an' lots of secrets, ta every man, woman, an' child." They fell silent after that strange ending, and, once their ale's were finished, we headed to the Kennel to see the Healers and muster out.

We got there in time to watch Mattes, Beka, and Clary (whose jaw was frightfully swollen and sore-looking from some injury) as they headed off from muster with the other Evening Watch Dogs, who'd gotten there before us due to being both closer and having not stopped to break up yet another tavern fight (this one not yet a brawl but looking to get there before my Dogs dived in. I didn't even have to do anything but stand with Jinglenob and scowl at the lot of looby's that came stumbling out, the great puttocks.). We checked in, and I was once again forced to stand under Ahuda's vaguely disapproving gaze as the Kennel Healer's patched up my cracked bones and deeper wounds, only now with strict orders the let the sarden magic rest, so no Cesspool for at least one night. That done, I limped my way to Jordan's Lodgings, up to my room, and collapsed into my bed, body all a-aching and a-moaning…only to have Jinglenob drop my journal on me nob and look at me like I was a misbehaving gixie, so that I had to force myself to write all this down. My second day as a Puppy is done, I only have three hundred and sixty-three left to go!

May the Black God have mercy on me, and on my Dogs and friends as well. The life of a Dog is a sarden sight harden then I thought it was. Maybe Playing wouldn't've been too bad after all…

At least I'm never bored, though.

**A/N: **

**R&R Please!**

**Vocabulary lesson – **

Black God – the hooded and robed God of Death, recognized as such throughout the Eastern & Southern Lands of Tortal

Bugnob – person of little brain

Cages – Holding Cells for prisoners

Cracknob – madman

Dog – member of Provost's Guard

Douse – Murder

Doxie – Female prostitute

Ducknob – person of low intelligence

Gauds – Bright, costly things

Gillyflower – Carnation

Gixie – girl

Glims – eyes

Gorget – mail plate cover for the neck, like a collar

Happy Bag – the collection of weekly bribes for Provost's office, can hold anything of value that can be sold for cash.

Hobble – tie-up or arrest.

Hobbles – rawhide handcuffs

Hotblood Wine – Wine spiked with an amphetamine-like substance.

Jack – tankard, often leather.

Jinglenob – Empty-headed person.

Kennel – Police station

Lord Provost – Nobleman in charge of Provost's Guard.

Mot – Woman, common-born

Mumper – Beggar

Murrain – Plague

Nob – Head

Players' jollity – Professional performance, play or musical entertainment.

Pox – plague/disease

Puppy – Trainee, Provost's Guard

Puttock – low-level female prostitute

Rat – Criminal, prey, captive (to Dogs)

River Dodgers – Hard men & women who work on and around the river, on boats, in shipping and trade (and smuggling)

Rushers – Thugs

Sarden – blasted, damned, detestable

Scale – Receiver of stolen goods

Scummer – Animal dung

Sommat – Something (just in case -_- )

Spintry – Male prostitute

Ticklers – fingers

Trollop – Woman who is morally lax, usually sexually

Trull – Very low-class kind of woman, the dregs.


	6. Puppy Problems: Day 3

Journal of

Kienta Bails

R&R

_**Friday, April Third, 246**_

Before My Watch

Jinglenob again risked meeting the Black God a sarden sight sooner then was natural by waking me at six of the morning so he could greet nature's call. As I had a sarden _four hours_ afore I was due at Faraway's, I pulled on some breeches and a long blue tunic (a mix of cove and mot), and limped outside with the silly beast so he could make his business in the same alley as yestermorn', though by the back door instead of the front. Once he was done, we took the side-door and went back up, and I stripped to my loincloth and breastband, once again applying Mama's wonderful, Gods-blessed ointment to my bruised self. I'd need another jar or twelve by the end of the _month_ if my Dogs kept this up.

Once that was done, I pulled on the breeches and tunic again, gathered my Players garb into a basket carefully with my Puppy uniform, and picked up Jinglenob's rope. We'd stop by Mama's and drop off my uniform, so as she could give it a proper washing afore my Watch tonight, which saved me coppers that I could put to use feeding myself and my pooch. Besides, now that the sarden brute has decided that I needed to be woken at hours that shouldn't _exist_, I had time to help her and my siblings a bit afore I went to entertain. On the way, I bought myself three cheese fritters and Jinglenob a meat pie. He seems just as happy to skip about like a pup and sniff at those that pass by, 'cept when we passed a cove who had a stick of grilled horsemeat, who he decided he was in love with for a good street or to, and managed to make a proper spectacle of the _both_ of us by draggin' me about like I weighed naught but air. The cove and others watchin' laughed themselves sick over my sarden beast, and he got his bit of horsemeat, while I fought to catch my breath and wipe scummer from my breeches and glare at the blasted mongrel who was more trouble then he was worth…

Until he brought me his precious horsemeat and gave me that big, silly grin of his, the looby. I gave the meat back to him, and scratched his ruff, before we made our way back in the direction of Mama's, and made it there in time to hug Fintel, Maggie, and too-pretty Nikolae goodbye as they made their way towards the Daymarket with Kindle as a guard for the heavy wagon of pre-made goods and ingredients they carried on a large, homemade wagon behind them, pulled by a donkey they rented weekly.

"Wish us a good haul, sister!" The two blackheaded food-mages sang to me as they set their golden-brown and orange-yellow magic over the foods, to keep them fresh and hot until they reached Mama's bakery (a building, _not_ a stall, or tent, or anything), their blue-green eyes warm and bright, if tired. I signed them good-luck, and smiled at them, before turning to my ten-year-old brother Nikolae, who was almost too pretty to be a young cove, though he was a strong one and could fight as good as any Cesspool brat. His short strawberry blond hair, moon-pale skin, and light freckles matched well with his lithe frame and honey-brown eyes. I could just catch the broadening of his shoulders, and I hugged him extra tight, having not seen him last time I had been home, since he had had a cold and Mama had set him upstairs to sewing up the clothes.

"Good morrow, sister," he murmured, in a sweet, soft voice, that would begin to crack and change in the next year of so, I knew. I kissed his forehead and smacked his bum, shooing him after his older siblings, and he laughed, startled, before loping obediently forward, as graceful as a Scanran greyhound. I sighed a little sadly, and shook my head, smiling up at Kindle when he patted my shoulder.

"Lad's determined to be a Spintry, you know," he said idly; I nodded. It had been all Nik' had been able to talk about, since Baret and Lyddy had come to visit two years ago, and he had been getting himself ready for that life as well as he could, considering he wouldn't be allowed to sell until he was sixteen or older. Kindle shook his head, smiling, and kissed my cheek, before striding away after my siblings, hand resting on the pummel of his sword as they made their way down the road and out of height. Setting my hand on Jinglenob's head as he leaned against my thigh, I mourned, briefly, the passing of time.

It seemed like only yestereve that I was six and tying nappies about Nikolae as he squirmed and wailed and reached form Mama while she worked in the stall, sellin' pasties and patties and cakes. Now, he was almost grown up, and a young cove, and had a mind to what job he'd have. Shaking my head, I turned and took the steps, pushing open the door and letting Jinglenob in before closing it. As it was so early, I had no doubt that most of the younger children were still asleep, and so didn't whistle, but instead made my way quietly down the hall and into the kitchen, where Mama, Jesabel, Jorath, and the twins Siarana and Tinsle worked on more pasties and things, which they would send off to the Daymarket once Kindle returned with the wagon and donkey.

I paused in the doorway and just looked at them, with my Dog-eyes and my own mixing.

Mama's arms, working dough strongly, resiliently, were muscled and a little thick. Her hands were thin with age, but callused with use, but soft with constant appliance of a mage-cream she had, so that those calluses didn't catch delicate sewing or dough. Her dark blond hair was mostly gray now, her face lined with her age as well as from her smiles. Her eyes were kind, but tired, always tired. Her belly was round, like it usually has been during my entire life, with very few times when it was not and, judging from experience and size, I can guess that it is twins we will have three months from now. Funny, that five of Mama's children have magic, yet she seems to have none… Perhaps her magic comes from her ability to carry so many babes to birthing, having never lost even one to anything so far, and to be able to continue to do so, despite that she is nearly fifty now, and should be unable to have babies, all things considered. Maybe _that_ is her magic, or her special blessing from the gods…

Who knows, truly?

I turned my eyes Jesabel, and smiled at my twelve-year-old sister, who was helping the twins drizzle honey neatly on some cakes while they cooled on a rack. Her red hair was just a deep and thick and beautiful as it had been all those years ago, when she had cowered into my side in the face of the slavers. Her green eyes were bright and mischievous and loving. She reached my chest, now, and was growing peaches of her own as well, and her hips were widening. I knew she already danced and played the flute in taverns under the watchful eyes of Kindle or his rusher-friends, and brought money home that was dearly needed. When she was older, and had a home of her own, I had no doubt she would rake in the crowds of Unicorn or Highfields, and she would send money home to Mama like all her children did.

Jorath was sending his plum-colored magic out over the batter he was stirring, red-brown hair spiked up with some sort of gel that he had made from oils and fat, charmed to smell nice and not to fester. His blue eyes were hard with concentration, and my eleven-year-old little brother scowled at his work, lips moving silently, mouthing words like 'smooth' and 'thicken' at the batter, which had been looking both lumpy and a tad too thin, until he worked it. His magic touched baking only a little bit, though, so it was understandable that it only obeyed a wee bit, some of the lumps shrinking and the soupy mixture thickening a tad, but it satisfied him, because now it was fixable, at least. Jorath was _not_ made for the kitchen, though, and only helped in the making of certain things, like the fritters, which he was making the base of now. His magic leaned more towards fighting and protection, and some minor healing (he could mend a broken bone with ease, but gods help you if you had a bleeding wound or bruise). His runes of protection decorated the house outside and in, especially where Mama's hid some of the baking books, for when she decided to try something old or new, or write a new recipe. His magic was also particularly strong on the nursery, which was also the largest room in the house, and held all children under the age of five, though only those under two slept in crib (hand-made by a carpenter friend of Kindles for half-price, which, while still expensive, hadn't been too much since they only needed three at most, as twins shared a cradle.).

Siarana squealed as Tinsle put a gob of batter on her face (they had since moved on from the honeycakes, as they had finished with them). The two eight-year-old immediately began to wrestle, splattering batter (now ruined) on one another and trying to tickle the other, their honey-blond hair matting with the sweet stuff that was meant to be fruitpies, their black eyes bright and gleeful as they hit the ground, the chair falling with a loud clatter. I heard a wail start up upstairs as baby Mick, the two-year-old mage-in-the-making, woke up at the noise, and Mama sighed, hesitating.

"I'll get him," I announced, speaking aloud as I knew Mama couldn't see me; everyone looked at me, shocked and surprised to see me, and I walked over to give Mama a kiss on the cheek as she sent me a relieved look and went back to her dough, which would be made into a sweet bread that was favored among some of the upper-middle class that sometimes sent Kip and Corth themselves to pick up a batch. Leaving my basket of clothes next to the kitchen doorway, I scurried upstairs, and into the last room down the too-thin hall, and through the rickety door, where now four crying children sat, Mick having woken the three-year-old twins Hanse and Leorn, as well as four-year-old Mark.

Quickly, I sat pallet they shared, pulling them all onto my legs as Jinglenob laid in the doorway with a yawn, and rocked gently, humming softly and soothingly until the four of them no more then sniffled, and little Mick (who changed his red hair to red and then yellow, for no reason but that he could) was soon asleep once again, while the twins were dozing, redheads nestled in my lap. Mark, though, was wide-awake, as often happened when he was woken by sommat he didn't like, and looked up at me with narrowed green eyes. Afore he could open his little gob like a looby and wake his siblings again, I slipped a hand under the pillow they shared, and pulled out the shiny he usually kept under there.

Immediately, he snatched it and cuddled it close, admiring it, though he'd had it since he was two and set his glims on the bit of fribbety gaud, but he'd stolen it like a filcher, and Jorath had been his backup, if I remember correctly, and his babysitter. I'd been right proud of Mark, too, even if stealing sommat like a fake-silver toy knight was silly, but still. He had the makings of a right great foist, and Kindle and our lot would make sure he got there and stayed there. Ever since, he had an obsession with shiny things, more so then most Cesspool brats, and that went for _all_ shiny things. He had an old crate in the cellar set up like a sarden shrine to the sparklies he's collected, though he knows that any coppers and coin he gets goes straight to Mama, no matter how shiny. I took a peek at his crate, once, and there's all manner of things in there, from earrings to necklaces to pieces of shiny trash. It was a bit like a magpie, or a crow, and what with his black hair, he fit with the though well enough as well.

"Wanna go help Mama," he muttered, tucking the knight under his pillow again, and scrabbling up and into a too-big tunic that looked like it used to belong to Jorath (he _did_ idealize the young fighting-mage, after all, so it made a kind of sense). In that and nothing more, the four-year-old cove climbed over my silly beast, who looked like naught had even touched him, and went downstairs. Shaking my head, I shifted the little ones easily onto the pallet with experience, tossed a blanket on the lot of them, and followed him down with Jinglenob following behind to once more flop down in the doorway, the great looby.

"It be good ta see yez, sister!" Jesabel chirruped, smiling beautifully, and I hugged her without caring that she got flour and egg on my clothes. The twins had gone, probably to bathe, and Jorath was having Mark help him with the fritters by letting him stir the fixed batter while he sliced cheese and fruits. Mama was setting small, round rolls of bread in one of the three ovens to bake, and sent me a warm smile as she finished, walking over while she wiped her hands on an extra towel.

"I'z be guessin' tha' yez be needin' yer uniform wash, aye, sweetling?" she asked, kissing my cheek, and I nodded, so she picked up my basket, took out my uniform, and set my basket next to Jinglenob, giving him a scratch to the ears before she left, to wash my bloodied and muddied clothes while I set about making the cinnamon pastries that I loved to bake. I had two hours, yet, afore I was due at Faraway's, and could afford to spend it helping my family, like I always did in the past.

Those two hours went by fast, and I made it to Faraway's with a belly full of cheese fritters and arms sore from yestereve and kneading dough. Mama was drying my uniform, and had sent Jesabel to wash the clothes I'd arrived there is, so now I was dressed in my very-bright yellow dress with matching mask that curved down one cheek and up the opposite temple in sharp, curving curls. I smiled at Garth; a handsome honey-skinned spintry who I'd actually had a time or two of fun with meself, for half the price and a batch of Mama's honeycakes. He winked dark brown eyes at me, and flirted with a mot who eyed him like a piece of meat, his dark hair a little curly as he stood in a dark brown loincloth that stood well against his tanned, muscular flesh…

Gods, but he could give a mot the shivers, just looking at 'im!

"Wintry!" Faraway yowled; I rolled my eyes and sighed, before sashaying my way towards the cove.

"Ye called, Master Faraway?" I asked, voice bored, and he glared at me angrily.

"Yez be needin' ta bring in more coin, wench!" he screeched; I narrowed my eyes slightly, and decided that I would see if I could find another employer after this morn. If he'd called me something else but a wench or mot or even a gixie, I'd have laid him out with a nap-tap, quick and hard, as we was taught in training. Since he didn't though, I let his rotted teeth stay in his murrain-infested mouth, for now.

"I bring in enough for me and mine," I told him icily, eyes narrowed. "If you didn't rook me outta half of it, tha' is, ye puttocks-born sewer rat," I growled, glaring at him for good measure, and he bared his teeth. Jinglenob growled deeply, baring his large teeth, and Faraway took a step back, all quick like, suddenly nervous as he eyed my brute. As well he should be, the worthless scut! Tryin' ta tell me tha' my coin ain't good 'nough.

Puttock.

"Yez on in ten, Wintry," he snapped, finally, glowering at Jinglenob and me from a safe distance, like the rat he is. "An' if yez don' bring mor'n yez did yestermorn, yez can find yerself a new job!" He spat, and scurried away when Jinglenob made move to lunge at his worthless self. I spat after him, scowling, and moved to my little area, picking up my bowl and checking how much money I'd gained the other day, doing a quick count. Id' given him twelve coppers and six silver nobles, more then I could really afford to give him, but considering I'd gotten four _gold_ nobles, and _could_ afford to lose some coppers…

Let's see. Ten coppers is a copper noble. Ten copper nobles is one silver noble. And, ten silver nobles is one gold noble. So, if I got four gold nobles, ten silver nobles, and the equivalent of one copper noble in coppers, (this is after I gave Mama her half of my coin.), I technically got five gold nobles and one copper noble, while Faraway got six silver nobles, one copper noble, and two coppers…

I think I got the better end of that stick.

When my first shift came, I slipped out and smiled at the crowd, and I did my job, like I always did. And as I did, I couldn't help but wonder, how many of them will I cage? How many will I beat with my baton and sap, leave black, and blue, and broken in bones and pride at night, and the next day they'll come here to hear me sing and watch me dance, and have no notion that I was the one who did it? How many will hate me as a Dog, but love me as a Player? It is a mighty confusing line of thought, I admit, and when I collect the twelve coppers and three silver nobles they leave me, I wonder if I should feel guilty, before I think better of it and just take my coin and go back to my room, sliding two of the silvers and four of the coppers away, and leaving Faraway the rest. I'd check my silver when I stopped by Mama's to pick up my uniform, since I'd already told he to 'ware of coles, and she would keep it to herself, as would my siblings.

My second through sixth shift saw me just as little in winnings, but that was usual, so I snuck some away and gave Faraway the rest, as was usual as well. The seventh, however, like the day before, saw the nobleman standing amongst the Cesspool and Lower City folk who gathered in the small crowd, and he had brought with him a young gixie of about five, with his black hair and bright blue eyes. She was sitting on his shoulders, and where the lordling's magnificent horse stood, next to it was a pony. There were three more guards now, as opposed to yestereve's one, and all looked nervous at having their charges so far away. Smiling, I curtsied to the Lord and his child, and gave the gixie a wink when she giggled at me.

"Have you a song request, milady?" I asked her; eyes wide and hopeful, she looked down at her father, tugging his hair lightly before leaning down and whispering in his ear. The nobleman smiled, and nodded.

"Mikyla would like to hear _The Barmen's Daughter_," he told me; there was a general murmur of approval amongst the crowd, and I stood with a flourish and a spin, Jinglenob leaped forward to prance about my feet.

"As the lady wishes, so shall it be," I announced, to a cheer from the crowd. A couple of more people wandered over, including, I was surprised (and a little worried) to see, Rosto and his two mots. Music rose from behind the wall, where I knew Maura was, and I smiled as the _Barmen's_ tune rolled through the air. I love this song, and sang it true, as it was a song my Da taught me afore he greeted the Black God. I'll right its lyrics here, though I know none but I shall e'er read this. It will be fun to look back and see them, and remember this day, in any case.

_I saw a lass, so sweet an' kind,_

_A true treasure, me lads, was she!_

_With bright red hair and cunning mind,_

_And smile at me, did she._

_Eyes as green as summers grass,_

_And skin as soft as down._

_She was the most beautiful lass,_

_I'd e'er seen in town._

_She worked at the tavern I knew well,_

_Called the Fallen Sparrow Nest._

_Her father was known Geoff Fell,_

_And had sent many a caller to their rest!_

_But you see, my lads, this lass o' mine,_

_T'was sweeter then new honey._

_And would wait 'till the moon was full in shine,_

_To sneak from her father and come to me._

_But Barmen Fell was a smart cove,_

_A smart cove was he!_

_And one night he followed my lady love,_

_And to the Black god he sent we._

_But be strong, lads,_

_Do not falter!_

_For I've found Peace, my lads…_

_With the Barmen's Daughter._

That done, I spun a final time and sank into a low curtsy to the loud applause, smiling as I lifted my head. As I watched, the little gixie nearly fell, she clapped so hard, and I laughed happily. I held my hands out to her, and her father lifted her up to me, and I found myself pulling little gixies up from the crowd, and singing an old nursery rhyme and dancing its dance, the chink of coins landing in my bowl a different music as Jinglenob acted like a right looby and chased his tail within our circle, while I kept a firm hold on the little noble-gixie, who laughed happily, delighted as we spun. When we finished, I made sure that every gixie got back to their parents, asking the child first before letting them get off stage, and handed the nobleman his daughter with a warm smile.

"Did you see me, Papa?" she asked, happily throwing her arms around his neck as he took her; he murmured to her, pressing a small purse into my hands before he turned and moved towards their mounts, the gixie realized they were leaving an waved excitedly. "Goodbye, Wintry!" She cried; I waved as well, with a laugh, and turned to my crowd to take the next two requests, putting the purse next to Jinglenob, who flopped down and put his head atop it without hesitation, guarding whatever my prize was without having to be asked or told.

I'd be sure he got some good treat tonight for sure. Mayhap a skewer of horsemeat like this mornings…

Last long finished, I took my fuller-then-usual bowl and sashayed to my "room" to count it all out and squirrel some away. Jinglenob picked up the blue pouch the nobleman had given me, and I sat down and took it from him when he pressed his head betwixt my legs, seemingly for an ear-scratch. Idly, carefully, I opened the pouch, which felt heavy compared to my own, and stared blankly at the gold coins that stared up at me, before I closed it and slipped it between my peaches without hesitation. I'd count them later, but I already knew there were much more then four.

Why was this lordling giving a Cesspool and Lower City Player _gold nobles_ for payment? T'was confusing, and suspicious. However, I'd trade them at the Goldsmiths Bank for silver nobles and copper nobles. It would give me more coin to handle, but running about with gold was just asking to get attacked on the way home, and I was _not_ putting my family in danger.

Shaking my head, I quickly counted out my takings, eying the more-silver-then-copper mess. I could take most of the coppers, and leave half the silvers, or take most the silver and leave half the coppers. Choices, choices…

Well, as I'm feeding more mouths then my own, and Faraway spends half of _my_ coin on his own doxies, I'll just take most the silver _and_ most the copper. Nodding, I began to do so, keeping an eye on the private room where I knew he was canoodling with Sarah Lee. I winced slightly, feeling unhappily queasy at the thought of _anyone_ canoodling with Faraway. You couldn't pay me enough… Never mind, I decided you probably _could_, if my family was in a heavy pinch and needed the money fast.

I marked down ten silver nobles and fifteen coppers (for Faraway, at least) before heading out, waving to Garth and Sarah Lee (it seems she tired Faraway out and left him in the room, probably a silver or three extra short. Good on her!) I quickly handed the doxie three silver nobles, nodding at her, and getting a nod in return, before I left for my Mama's for the second time that day.

Once there, I changed into my now-dry-and-clean uniform, sighing happily as Mama looked me over while Kindle sat at the table, drinking from his jack of what I knew to be raspberry twilsey (isn't it funny that such a big man hated the taste of ale?). Sitting across from him, I let little seven-year-old Oriver scrabble into my lap, the red, tousled mess of his hair matted with what smelled like jam and his gray eyes bright with interest as I pulled out the blue pouch (it was velvet, by-the-by) from the nobleman.

_That lordling from yestereve stopped by today with his gixie,_ I signed to Kindle and Mama, who came over to look at it curiously. I opened the bag and simply upended it on the table. Gold nobles poured out, ten in all, and lay sparkling and shining innocently before all our staring eyes.

"Black Gods Mercy," Oriver announced, eyes huge, and I distractedly cuffed him upside the head. No need to call upon our god from sommat so silly as shock.

"Izzit real, Mama?" Siarana and Tinsle asked in unison, and Mama nodded slowly, as I picked the coins back up, leaving five on the table as I put the other five in the bag, and opened my heavy money pouch. Quickly counting it out, I placed half the coin I had in the blue pouch and picked the other five coins up, putting them in my money pouch. That done, I left the blue pouch on the table and glanced out the window to check the time. I still had enough time to stop and buy some food for Jinglenob and me…

"Kienta?" Mama asked, voice thick and eyes bright with tears, and I stood, set Oriver down, and picked up the blue pouch before taking her hand, putting it in her palm firmly, not caring that flour and still-wet batter immediately stained the expensive cloth. Mama stared into my purple-flecked eyes, and I stared into hers, and then she smiled, and it trembled. She couldn't hug me, else she'd get flour and worse on the uniform she'd just cleaned, but she _did_ kiss my cheek. That done, I said my farewells until tomorrow, left, and hurried away afore she could cry.

I bought three skewers of horsemeat and two cheese fritters, and had only half of one of each, as my silly mumper dog managed to rook me out of the rest. I got home in time enough that I could slip the gold nobles into the mouse hole with the others, along with half of what I had in my purse, so that it wasn't nearly so big, and then I quickly applied more bruise salve and wrote all this. I wonder where we'll be patrolling, knowing that the kennel healers had ordered my Dogs away from their usual brawling-spots until the magic had set into my broke and cracked bones, so soon after having _already_ been broken.

I must leave now; else I'll be late.

Black God smile upon me!

After My Watch

_Written at two of the Morning…_

Beka explained to me during combat practice, in signals, about what happened to Clary's jaw, and it ended with me giving my sparing partner a particularly nasty bruise on his side in reply, scowling. _No one_ struck a dog with a blade, _especially_ not some pox-rotten trull of a midden hen that would hurt her own man and children for the sake of hotblood wine! I scowled darkly, and gave my friend a sympathetic hug when I noticed that she was limping a bit (which is to be expected, after having run so sarden _far_), and silently hoped that Orva Ashmiller never set eyes on her children again.

Just because the god my family followed is the most merciful, doesn't mean we can always follow in his footsteps. We are, after all, human.

Finch and Ferrows bore bruises a _lot_ darker then my own, and gave me suspicious looks before I rolled my eyes and made a signal at them to hold on for a moment, then went and borrowed Beka from her Dogs to be my translator. She kept her eyes firmly on my hands as I moved them at her, and she nodded, glancing at my Dogs, who were waiting impatiently.

"She says to tell you that she has a bruise salve her Mama made her that makes bruises fade in hours, and that if you'd like some you can buy some from her mother for two silver nobles, Guardsmen," she told them, keeping her eyes on my hands, before she nodded at me and them, and scurried back over to Clary and Mattes, Pounce at her feet. Jinglenob woofed softly, then yawned. Ahuda dismissed us all, and the various pairs (with and without Puppies) went off to their assigned areas.

"We've Nightmarke' tonigh', Puppy," Ferrows said, scowling slightly at me, and I nodded as meek as a temple priest…which is sommat that never made much sense to me, considering my brother Markus has a temper to do a swilled river dodger proud.

"We traded off with Jewel and Yoav, as they've yet to walk the Cesspool this week," he explained idly as we walked that direction. I wondered if we might stop at my Mama's shop. Kip and Corth had been sleeping all day today, and tomorrow would be another day off unless an especially urgent message was needed to be sent, so they would be working the Nightmarket with Cail (who was the most powerful mage born into the family yet, and only had problems with getting stains from clothing, and a horrible clumsiness that the six-year-old couldn't honestly help. We were all praying he'd grow out of it, or it would be the death of him, tripping over naught but _air_ half the time.).

I dither, though.

We got to Nightmarket and walked the crowds with the four other pairs that were close, though we never passed one another; we knew they were there. We stopped several filchers, a famble-full of foists, and several sutlers. T'was the most boring Watch I've had since I started, and I was sincerely missing the brawls and beatings of the Cesspool. Finch and Ferrows seemed to notice, or mayhap they just enjoyed my boredom, because they both gave me small grins and we wondered off to buy ourselves sommat to eat, since we'd been working five hours, with eight more to go. My Dogs made their way to Mistress Deirdry's, but I stayed well back, eying her warily and with as blank a face as I could make it.

"Two apple-raisin patties, Granny," Finch said, smiling easy as sweetness at the old woman, who grinned at him warmly. Ferrows turned to ask me what I wanted. I shook my head sharply, but t'was too late. I'd caught the old shrews eye, and her whole face had lit up like Yule had come early.

"Kienta Bails, ya pert gixie you!" She cried, like we was old friends and she'd _never_ bruised me or my siblings with a broom or bare fists whilst we was growin' up. Its enough ta make a mot spit at her! "I've known that girl and all her siblings since they were babes, you know," she told my Dogs as she bustled about, getting their orders for them, and for her other customers. I stayed well-back, though. "And so I know better then ta try and give her one of my cakes or patties, that one _or_ her siblings! Their too much their Mama's children, and t'wouldn't even touch my food if I gave them any. Might give it to a mumper or sommun' as couldn't pay themselves, but wouldn't eat it themselves." She chuckled as she gave a pie a particularly vicious cut, slicing it for a messenger that was there to pick it up for his master. "Too loyal, them Bails Brats," she added, and shooed my Dogs away, how _dare_ they try to pay her!

We walked away, and I kept my eyes on the crowds, my back stiff, and Jinglenob growled at a filcher who looked ready to risk we Dogs to go after a lady in silk. The lad, a few years younger then me, blanched and disappeared, to test the other side of the crowd. My Dogs ate their food, and glanced at me, afore turning and leading me towards a different area, were sweeter scents wafted. I breathed them in, smiling happily, and latched a hand onto the back of a young gixie who'd just tried to steal _my_ purse (though, _t'was_ the fake one, but that 'isn't the point.). I held out my hand, and she scowled, putting the purse back in my hand, and I let her go, casually slipping a silver noble into her palm and cuffing her on the back of the head to make it look like I'd punished her. She ducked with the blow, so it barely grazed her, grinned impishly up at me, and ran off into the crowd.

My siblings have such cheeky friends sometimes.

"Kienta!" came three voices; Jinglenob barked, a deep, rumbling sound, his tail wagging, as we came upon a stall where my siblings were working, Kindles friend Jack (a rusher who worked for Dawull) standing guard in case someone tried sommat. I grinned at my three brothers as they waved before hurrying to pass out orders and collect money. People never even blinked, anymore, at getting served by children. Sometimes, when Mama's belly isn't too round or she's finally all rested from the newest Bails Brat, she works the stall or bakery herself, but more often then not, the older coves and gixies handle it and she works at home. Right now, though, the blond-and-gray-eyed twins and our red-haired-blue-eyed mage manned it, and they were selling strong and fast.

"Let's feed out Puppy, Ferrows," Finch said, smirking slightly, as we got in line, and I happily fell in beside them, smiling as we waited for a pregnant mot and her two children to finish buying their honeycakes, cheese fritters, and some sweet bread. Once they'd moved on, I slipped around my Dogs to give my siblings each a quick kiss on the cheek, getting one in return.

"Yez wants a fruited honeypie?" Corth asked me, smirking as my face lit up with delight. Mama knows I'm 'specially fond of those wee fruit pies covered in honey, nuts, and raisins. She makes them every once in a while, and sells them too, though she usually keeps a few behind for me, all special-like. I nodded eagerly, and Kip and Cail darted to the back to open an oven, which would mean that my pie would be _warm_, and those were always the best!

"We'll each have one as well, Master Bails," Finch announced, smirking at me, and I shrugged and signed to my brother, who scowled, putting his hands on his hip.

"Yer not ta be payin' a single copper, Kienta Bails!" He barked; Cail and Kip agreed as they carefully placed three beautiful little pies on clean linen squares. I scowled and signed sharper, and the three of them all crossed their arms over their chests and glowered at me.

"Ya already give Mama 'alf th' coin ya get Playing fer Faraway," Cail scolded, blue eyes bright. "Don't be makin' me magic ye, wench!" my six-year-old brother threatened, holding up a hand that glowed green with his power. "I'll make yez have to dance a jig e'ery time yez e'en _tink_ o' gi'en Mama a coin, fer a _week_, Kienta!" He threatened; my lips twitched, and I finally threw my arms up in the air, huffing at the three of them, and signing at them exasperatedly. My fourteen-year-old brothers grinned cheekily at me, gray eyes bright.

"We may be stubborn brats, Kienta," they said together, cheerfully, as they handed me and my Dogs our pies. "But we're _Bails_ brats." I huffed again, smiling wryly, before I gave them each another kiss, and signed one last thing at them. They signed it back, then cried cheerfully after us as we walked away,

"Black God smile on yez!" I shook my head, smiling, and bit into my fruited honeypie, moaning in delight as the hot berry filling filled my mouth, with the crunch of the nuts and crust, as well as the sweet-bitterness of the honey. Gods, but I loved these cakes…

"So," Ferrows started, once we'd finished our pies, and started patrolling again. "Yer a Player, Puppy Bails?" I blinked, started, then scowled and silently cursed. My brother had slipped up. Still scowling, I nodded, eying my Dogs warily as they walked in silence.

"Would this be why you no longer dance in the Court of the Rogue, then?" Finch asked idly; I blinked, and then decided to let them believe all I did was dance, and nodded idly at them again. They nodded back at me, and we finished our uneventful (boring) Watch with more filchers, foists, and other thieves, as well as _one_ fistfight that went too far when one of the fighters pulled a pigsticker and tried to stab the other. He missed, but the Cage Dogs will still grace his company.

When I got home, I wrote all this down after doing my proper thanks rituals to the Black God, for keeping me and my loved ones here another day. Tomorrow, it's back to the Cesspool. Gods, but I look forward to it, and, if his eagerness to go to bed is any way to tell, so is Jinglenob.

Black God smile upon us all.

**A/N:** R&R

**VOCAB LESSON!**

Afore – before

Bardash – male homosexual (Not actually used yet, but thought it would be good to put in there)

Canoodling – sexual activity

Cole – false coin

Colemonger – Counterfeiter

Cove – man

Famble(s) – hand(s)

Filcher – small-time criminal

Foist – master pickpocket

Fribbety – silly, frivolous

Gob – mouth

Honeylove – lesbian

Looby – fool

Mayhap – perhaps

Midden Hen – chicken that lives in dung; someone completely crazy.

Minnow/Mouse – very small-time criminal, not worth the trouble to arrest. _(Note – Mouse is not an actual term in the books. Just something that made more sense, if the bigger criminals were Rats)_

Pigsticker – big knife

Rook – cheat

Scut – idiot

Sutler – thief who takes goods from shops & vendors stalls; a Shoplifter.

Swilled – drunk

Twilsey – refreshing drink made from raspberry or cider vinegar and water.


	7. Puppy Problems: Day 4

Journal of

Kienta Bails

R&R!

**_Saturday, April Fourth, 246_**

Before My Watch

The sarden mutt will be the death of me. If I am to e'er get a good nights rest, t'will only be when I greet my God in the next realm, and the beast might well follow me there, too! It was six of the morning, _again_, which meant I'd gotten a good _four hours_ of sleep. Groaning, I got reluctantly out of my nice, comfy bed, dressed in my Players garb (today I wore a green dress with blue butterfly embroideries and a blue-and-green butterfly mask), though I had hours yet before work, and took my dog out to do his business. Master Foal gave me a surprised look, and I waved at him with a yawn, afore Jinglenob finished and we headed into town. I wanted breakfast, and to maybe see if I could find a new employer, though that was doubtful this early in the morn.

We stopped at my Mama's bakery, and I smiled tiredly at Fintel, Maggie, and Jesabel as they started setting the morning's business up. I kissed them each on the cheek, and ordered four spiced turnovers and two meatpies (those going straight to Jinglenob with a turnover). Yawning, I leaned against the counter, off to the side, and smiled at another of Kindles rusher friends as the cove nodded to me sleepily. We always had a guard, so as no one could start any trouble. It was one of the reasons no one tried stealing from our stalls. Our guards were paid in free meals and ale, not as much as they could drink, but still. It was better then nothing at all, right? And they could always say no if they had a job needing to be done.

"Kienta!" A familiar voice called; I turned curiously to see Ersken and Verene jogging towards me, grinning with a two-year Dog I recognized as Phelan at their back. I stuck a finger to my lips and shushed them scoldingly, smiling slightly as they looked me over with wide eyes. They knew I Played in the mornings, but they'd yet to ever see me in my garb.

"We're goin' to Beka's to make sure she's not goin' to become a mushroom," Verene told me, grinning easily. I smiled, turned, and signed at Jesabel, who was closest as Fintel and Maggie were handing out pasties to a mot and cove that looked to be in a rush.

"Aye, aye, sister!" my sibling cheered, turning and snatching up a linen-lined basket, and beginning to fill it with patties, pastries, and fritters, humming a familiar tune, which Verene and I both knew and all three of us started singing together, grinning as the other Puppy and I locked hands and spun around in a bit of a dance for those watching. When the song finished, I dug four silver nobles from my purse, tossed them on the counter, and darted down the street, grinning as my siblings shouted after me, complaining. My fellow Puppies ran after me with Phelan in tow, laughing, and soon we slowed to a walk as we came upon Nipcopper Close, and soon enough Beka's lodging house. As soon as we were through the doors, Ersken took a deep breath and began to yell,

"Beka! _Beka!_" We started up the steps, me and Verene grinning at each other as he continued. "Beka, you are _not_ hiding in your rooms all day! You are having fun with your friends! You know, _friends_?" Verene added her bit next as we got even closer.

"Beka, they's more to life than sleepin' an' walkin' your Watch!" Her Blue Harbor accent was thick and playful, as always, and I was as fond of it now as I was when I first heard it a year ago in the recruitment yard.

"Beka, I mean it!" Ersken started up again as we reached the top of the stairs. "You will open this door and—" He halted in the already open door, blinking like a startled doe, and we three almost collided with his back. I giggled. "You're—Hello," he managed to say to Kora and Aniki, who were sitting on Beka's floor, apparently eating breakfast with her. "Bek, you—um…" Kora looked at him sidelong and smiled. Ersken was done for. He turns shy as Beka when a pretty mot bats her lashes at him. Then Aniki got to her feet, and I grinned. She's half a head taller then him, and more woman then he'd know what to do with. Verene started to giggle while I fought not to, and pushed past him to step into the room, offering the swordswoman her hand.

"We're Beka's friends. We came to keep her from turnin' into a mushroom. I'm Verene, tha's Phelan, tha's Kienta, an' th' spaniel pup is Ersken. He's sweet. Don't bruise him." Ersken turned beet color.

"Kienta?" Aniki said, startled, and I wiggled my fingers at her playfully, while Jinglenob, who had decided to take the stairs at a slower pace behind Phelan, woofed and pushed his way forward. "Ah, and Jinglenob as well, I see," she said, reaching over and giving my brute a scratch when he padded over to her. "We saw you two sing and dance yesterday, as Wintry Rose and assistant." She grinned. "Nice work for a mute Puppy," she said; I grinned and shrugged. She turned her attention back to Verene.

"We're moving in, so we invited Beka to breakfast," she told the Blue Harbor mot, as we finally got into the room. "That's my friend Kora on the floor. She's living downstairs now. I'm Aniki. We met Beka, Kienta, and their pets at the Rogue's Court." I took a seat between Beka and Kora, grinning at the mage, and uncovered my basket of food, setting it in the middle as everyone started settling on the ground in a circle.

"You were there when Crookshank pitched his fit?" asked Phelan, looking at the four of us, eyes bright with interest. "The word is he tried to kill the Rogue. Some Scanran pretty boy saved ol' Kayfer's life." I nearly choked on my bite of apple turnover as Rosto stepped into the doorway, eyes narrowed and face cool.

"That 'pretty boy' would be me," he said slowly; everyone with their back to the door way turned to look, while Pounce gave the _mrt_ that was his laugh, and Jinglenob grinned like a, well, jinglenob. I grinned at him and gave him a wink, before I reached up, took off my mask, and laid it gently to one side, while Jinglenob flopped down behind me with a yawn. "I brought fresh food," the Scanran continued, holding up his own, large basket, and soon the eight of us were eating breakfast cheerfully, splitting fresh-baked oatmeal, rye bread, my Mama's baking, and other treats. Rosto had brought soft cheese to put on the bread, which made him a good fellow in all us Puppy's and Phelan's eyes.

"So why do they call you the Piper?" Verene asked, when he'd been introduced all around. She was sat right close to him, as was her habit when a handsome cove was about. She'd an eye for good-looking coves.

"I play well enough, don't I, girls?" he asked; Aniki and Kora nodded. Rosto smiled. It was a razor blade smile that got me curious to what was spinning in that blond head of his. But, to make his point, Rosto took a flute from his tunic and began to play. He was _very_ good. And me and Verene once again recognized the song at the same time, and began to sing together. Verene has a beautiful voice, and I've tried to convince her time and again to join me as a Player in the mornings, but she declines. Kora danced for us, and while Rosto and Phelan got into talks about a wandering mage they both knew, I sadly put on my mask again, bid farewell until tomorrow, and I headed off to Faraway's.

The nobleman wasn't there today, but I got an uncommon amount of silver and copper nobles, and a larger crowd then usual. I whispered in a few lads' ears to spread word that Wintry Rose was looking for a new employer from ten of the morning to two of the afternoon, and gave them a copper each. If Faraway heard of it, I'd tell him honest enough I didn't like his attitude and was lookin' for someone ta treat me nicer, and that it was his fault.

I left Mama with twelve silver nobles and twelve copper nobles even, but she told me to keep all the coppers, 'case I need to feed some Birdies. I love my Mama…

I'm home now, dressed for my Watch, and ready for the Cesspool tonight. I write this with an unsteady hand, my body all a-quivering, and Jinglenob ain't much better, he's so eager. He's a fighting dog, so a'course he's gonna like the Cesspool brawls he helps me in. I only hope I won't get him killed.

Black God watch over me and Jinglenob, and my friends and Dogs, too, while I'm at it!

After My Watch

_Written at three of the Morning_…

After Practice, my Dogs, Jinglenob, and I headed straight into the heart of the Cesspool, down past Koskeynen and towards Stormwing. Mumpers and common folk that ran there, along with doxies and spintries and others of their ilk, called to us by name, though they knew me only as "Fighter Pup" by now. Finch and Ferrows sneered and leered and spat insults and threats alike at rushers and Rats not worth the kiss of our batons, while my beast and I walked at their heels, eyes bright, muscles tense, and ready for the first fight to start.

We hadn't very long to wait, actually.

It was just after we'd come close to Viperwind Alley (a small street with a famble-full of homes, mostly a place for low-cost doxies and spintries to take their johns and janes for a quick swive) that we happened upon a small brawl. Twenty, mayhaps thirty, coves and mots were having at it without care for whose nob they caved in as long as they got one. We three looked at one another and lunged into the fray, Finch and Ferrows yelling at the cracknobs to disperse and go on about their business.

O'course, people tend ta not like it when you interrupt their fun, and the mob turned on us. Immediately, we started up the whistle for assistance, while we cracked nobs, elbows, hands, knees, shins, and gems alike, while Jinglenob snapped left, right, and center on whatever unlucky cove or mot was in front of him. People were fleeing into the shadows, bleeding or bruised, whilst others were jumping in to help their friends, or mayhaps just take their turn at tryin' ta send my Dogs to my God. And me as well, I found out, as I had to block a cove with a blade as was heading for my belly.

"Take that pigsticker elsewhere," Finch suggested to the cove cheerfully from my shoulder, afore he slammed his sap up into the bottom his jaw, makin' his eyes roll back as the nap-tap was well-delivered and he fell to be trampled by his uncaring fellows. I nodded to my training Dog, then turned and started in to help a mot as looked to want nothing more than to go home, and started fighting the coves as were ganged up about her and bellowing like bulls. Jinglenob yelped as a mot hit him with a rock, and I sent a furious blow upon her, snarling fit for a four-legged dog myself, until she shrieked sommat 'bout demons and evil spirits and ran off, sobbin' for the Goddess's and Mirthos mercy. I turned barred teeth on the coves about the woman as wanted to leave, and they shifted back from me a bit as Jinglenob joined me, snarling as we moved on them.

"She's cursed eyes," one of them, big and rough as any river dodger, muttered, and moved back as he and his mates made the Sign afore they turned and shoved their way out of the fight and took off. The mot scrabbled gratefully out after them, glancing back over her shoulder fearfully, and I spat on the ground, growling, afore I turned my "cursed eyes" back to the writhing bodies about me, and went in swinging, while, from the corner of my eye, I saw two more pairs of Dogs come jogging towards us, answering our summons.

With the four extra Dogs help, we broke up the fight quick-like, and hobbled the cove that had tried to stick me (as well as three others who'd tried to stick Finch and Ferrows as well), and sent them off with the other Dogs to be sent to the Cages. Then we continued on our Watch, after I checked Jinglenob after that mot had hit him. He had some scratches, but none that bled too much. I'll ask Cail tomorrow for sommat for his sores, and mayhap ask Mama for some salve for my Dogs….mayhaps not even for the full price of two silver nobles each.

Three more brawls, each as bad as that first, and we stopped halfway through our watch for dinner at a tavern, where the bread and chicken was dry from being cooked too long, but the potatoes, beans, and corn tasted well enough. The mot that dropped off our meal offered Finch and Ferrows some extra sugar I a back room after the meal, which they politely turned down, but promised to maybe check in on later. She was a pretty enough mot, but she kept glaring sommat awful at me, so I barred my teeth and had Jinglenob growl at her, sending her scurrying. It earned me a half-hearted scuff from Ferrows.

"No' nice there, Bails," He chided, smirking. "A cove could get ta thinkin' yez was a jealous sort o' mot, if 'e t'weren't careful-like." I snorted, gave him an amused look, and scratched Jinglenob on the ruff. We left a few minutes later, and soon enough found ourselves following the cries of some cove as was calling for Dogs. He was scared and big-eyed, pointing down an alley, and there we found the body of a woman all hacked to pieces. I grimaced, and Finch sent out the whistle for a murder. Jinglenob leaned against my thigh silently, and then started sniffing about while I eyed the corpse, my stomach all in greasy knots and rolling, threatening to come up out my mouth and embarrass me sommat awful.

She'd been a pretty mot, from what I could tell of her bloody face, with large blue eyes and dark blond hair that was curly. She looked to be about twenty-five, mayhaps twenty-eight. I'm better at mots ages then Beka, who was top of our class at guessing with coves ages. The dead mot had been wearing a blue-dyed wool dress, sommat quite a few Lower City mots can own, but the shoe, that was still on the foot that lay a good ways away from where t'was supposed to, was an expensive kind of soft leather slipper, the kind a mot'll wear when she goes out to see a cove as taken her fancy.

"Hello there," Phelan's voice greeted as he padded up to my side, his scent hound, Achoo, at _his_ side. She was a silly thing, and had gotten her name for her habit of sneezing whenever she got the scent. "See you've got sommat right nasty, here," he said, wincing slightly as he eyed the mess that splattered all across the alley floor. Jinglenob woofed, and trotted over, making Achoo duck down low, tail tucked close and nervous. He _was_ thrice her size, poor mot. As my beast assured the amber–furred mongrel that he wasn't going to eat her, I glanced over my shoulder, to see Phelan's partner talkin' with my Dogs as they waited on Springbrook and Evermore, muttering about what they'd do if the two Dogs were canoodling on Watch _again_.

Finally, the two others arrived, panting and disheveled, and muttered sommat about dropping Rats off, and sharing a water flask. My Dogs gave them the same dark looks they usually aimed my way, then we all returned our attention to the dead mot. Achoo, now much happier that she knew Jinglenob meant her no harm, was casting her snout about, trying to find a scent, and whining something awful. After ten minutes, she walked over to Phelan, tail tucked and body hunched, looking miserable, and whined up at him. Phelan cursed and shook his head, then knelt and comforted his hound while his partner explained.

"The killer had his scent magicked," he told us with a dark scowl towards the alley. "He's made it so he can't be tracked by hounds." Jinglenob growled, then went over and licked Achoo on the head a few times, which made her tail wag feebly. Poor hound had been so happy to get to work, and now she wouldn't get to chase this murderin' Rat. My Dogs scowled at the alley as well.

"Rat's as use magic ta cover their paw prints are al'ays trouble," Ferrows growled darkly; Finch nodded grimly.

"We'll probably see more of his work, so we'll all have to put some feed before our Birdies, and warn Ahuda about it," he added, shaking his head. "Lets get this mot covered and carried out, though, shall we? Someone go get a wagon." Phelan and his partner left to do that as my Dogs and I moved, carefully and respectfully placing all the pieces close together. Springbrook and Evermore left, and returned with a stained canvas they bought off a nearby cove for a few coppers, and we gently moved the dead mot onto it.

By the time the wagon came to take her to the Black Gods Temple, my Dogs and I were all soaked with blood and worse, and stank of scummer and rotting meat. I made them stop before taking her away, my childhood training raising its head, and preformed the Black Gods Last Rites for her in sign, bowing my head in prayer for a few minutes, and offering a promise to my God to pray properly for her once I returned home. Then I climbed from the wagon, nodded them off, and my Dogs and I grimly returned to our watch, hands stained red and black from her blood and street muck.

We broke up another tavern brawl, a fight between a doxie and her john, a robbery, and I personally caught a cove that still had blood on his hands and tunic from the throat he'd slit for _two_ _silver nobles and four_ _coppers_! I took pleasure in hobbling him while he babbled and begged me to let him go and show him mercy, before I had enough and had Jinglenob snarled at him. He walked silent after that, but for the occasional whimper.

When we mustered out at one, my Dogs grabbed me and silently pulled me after them to the Dogs bathing house, where they flashed their bath-passes, passed the attendants some coin, and hauled me and my dog both in. I stripped without being told and sank to my nose in the gloriously hot water, scrubbing at the dried blood from the alley mot, and worked hard to get it from every crack. Finch and Ferrows sank down in the same section as me, and also began to scrub, passing the scentless soap that was well-known to be magicked for helping with just the sort of problem we had. Jinglenob slept against the wall while the attendants took our uniformed for washing, and I dunked down, scrubbing my head hard, coming up with a soft gasp and a little light-headed from the heat.

"You know, Bails," Finch said suddenly, leaning back and eying me as I settled back and lifted a leg so I could scrub my aching feet. "You're alright, for a Puppy," he said; I blinked and eyed him, and wondered if mayhaps he'd taken a whack too many to the nob this watch. Ferrows grunted, cursing as soap got into a nasty looking scratch on his chest that he'd gotten during the first brawl of the night.

"Yez a fightin' Pup, s'no doubt," he agreed, scowling at me with his bruised face. Of course, all our faces were bruised. Brawls tended to do that, though my Dogs were always worse off then I was, since most went after them and saw me as less of a threat… Which would make you think they'd go after me, but, I guess not. "And yez sma't, s'no doubt 'bout tha' either. I suppose I like you," he said, scowling as if, for all the world, I'd just stolen his money and his mot alike. Finch nodded.

"We're agreed then, eh, Ferrows?" he said easily. "This ones a good Pup." Ferrows grunted, nodded, and went back to cursing as he again got soap in his sore. I snorted at him, and splashed water on his chest, getting most of the soap off it. He scowled at me even harder, then scrubbed at himself harder, muttering under his breath about interfering whelps. I grinned.

When the attendants returned with our clothes, we got out, and I was amused when they handed my Dogs towels but insisted on helping me dry off. I smiled and thanked them in sign when they refused coin, and was surprised when one of them signed back. Now dressed, clean, and refreshed, I left my Dogs at the door and limped my way back to Jane Street, where I stopped at the well outside my lodging house in order to rinse Jinglenob off good and well. The attendants at the bath had given him a polite scrub in the same area that they washed the scent hounds, but he hadn't been very happy being out of my sight, and was back afore they could wash all the soap from him.

Back in my room, I stripped to my breastband and loin cloth, prayed to the Black God for the alley-mots spirit at my small shrine that I'd made myself, and then put some bruise salve on my skin, so that I wouldn't have to put as much on in the morning. Finally, I sat down and I wrote all this, while I listened to Jinglenob snore softly, sprawled as he is on my bed. I will join him now, I think, because I wake early to go to breakfast tomorrow.

Black God Bless.

**A/N:** R&R

**VOCAB~!**

Birdie – informant

Garb – outfit (not actually in the books, but thought I'd explain it anyways)

Mayhaps – mix of Perhaps/Maybe

Nap-Tap – A hard hit to the bottom of the chin that, preferably, knocks the victim unconscious. Favorite move of most Dogs.

Sign – Ward against evil. Make an X over your heart with a line down the middle.

Swive – have sex (said in such a way that it could be a substitute for the word Fuck)


	8. Puppy Problems: Day 5

**A/N:** I was bored and decided to work on this fic, after I just finished reading Mastiff (Which was both awesome and not, because _Dude_)

Okay, let me just explain a few things before this chapter begins.

**First:** I've shifted the mornings and things so that they start earlier than usual, in order to fit with Kienta's work schedule.

**Second:** Yes, I know Beka is the one with "curse eyes". The mention I made referring to Kienta's eyes as such, were the fact that her eyes are bright green with purple flecks, and she was pissed and snarling like a dog. Not exactly of the normal, if you get my meaning. Also, you have to realize that Hotblood wine has amphetamine-chemicals in it.

These are the same chemicals used in abuse-substances, such as Meth, Ecstasy, and other _hallucinogenic drugs_. Dudes probably thought she was shooting freaking lasers out of her eyes or something!

**Third:** The bathhouse scene. Yes, they bathed together. It was mentioned in the book that some of the public bath houses still had bi-gender bathing. As in, guys and girls bathing TOGETHER. And that only the nobles and more expensive ones had private areas where males and females separated. That's why Finch, Ferrows, and Kienta bathed together. As for the attendants' insistence on assisting Kienta and leaving her Dogs to dry themselves…

Look at it from their point of view: Sixteen-year-old "mute" girl, covered in bruises, scrapes, and just finished washing away all sorts of ick, who is partnered with two men known to hate women and who regularly patrol and fight in the worst part of town. Some sympathy from the all female attendants, as well as one who is also mute, is to be expected.

**And Finally:** I will not be pairing Kienta with Rosto, I am sorry. Someone PMed to request it, but I'm putting it in here that no it isn't going to happen.

There, now that all that is all out of the way, if you've got questions, review or PM me and I'll answer them for you, no worries~!

_Journal of_

_Kienta Bails_

_**R&R!**_

**Sunday, April Fifth, 246**

_Before My Watch_

Mayhaps I am getting used to the unnatural hour my beast decides to wake me, because I woke at six of the Morning just as Jinglenob was yawning and waking himself. Rising, I was happy to see that my plan of applying the salve afore bed had worked and I'd not so many colors on my skins as I'd had this early morn after Watch. Another dab of the salve on the remaining bruises, and I dressed in a purple dress, with a purple feathered mask, and took Jinglenob down to do his business afore we headed to Mama's bakery to buy some things for Beka's Breakfast.

Jorath, Nikolai, Siarana, and Tinsle all manned the bakery this morn, and all were pleased to see me. Two familiar faces also guarded them, in their strange way, while nibbling on some chicken-raisin turnovers. Rosemary and Rosealine were twins, both with black hair, blue eyes, and pretty faces. For doxies, they were expensive, and I've never seen them work outside of Unicorn, but they were good mots to have at your back, and could use the long blades they wore on both round hips. They were dressed in long blue tunics and leggings, meaning they weren't looking for johns. I twiddled my fingers at them and they grinned at me, up-tilted eyes exotic and sly as they continued to eat, watching the thin crowd of Daymarket.

I again left coin for my siblings, while taking a basket full of rastons, turnovers, fritters, and pasties. I quickly made my way to Mistress Trouts, sashaying up the stairs to knock on Beka's door smartly. Aniki opened it, and I smiled at her easily as Jinglenob pushed his way past me to woof at the swordswoman and get his ears scratched. I entered the room, and eyed Beka, who had a splendid black eye and a nastily bruised cheekbone.

There had been word of a brawl at the Barrel's Bottom at the very edge of Watch, too far for us to go, and Night Watch had been sent to aid. It seemed Beka and her Dogs had been in its midst. I would have to suggest Mama's bruise salve to all the Puppies, mayhaps, if we kept leaving Watch looking so sorry. Beka smiled at me with a shrug with I signed her about the suggestion, and turned to feed her pigeons corn. As she was doing that, Rosto arrived with still more food to join my basket and the other that was sitting on the floor.

"I'll kiss them and make them better," he said when he saw her bruises, and I had to laugh, the sound actually escaping instead of remaining silent like usual. Beka slipped into a fighting position, eyes bright.

"Try and I'll bruise _you_," she announced. "Then Aniki and Kora can kiss _you_ better." Kora smiled.

"Aniki can do the kisses," she said. "Rosto, don't pull Beka's tail. She doesn't like it." Pounce padded right over to the Scanran, and reached up delicately between his legs, making a questioning mrt sound. When Rosto looked down, the purple-eyed cat patted the inside of his knee meaningfully, and Jinglenob barked, once, startling the pigeons and sending them flying away. (They'd return in a moment, though, cracknobbed loobies as they were. There was still corn to be had, and no hawks nearby to eat them.)

"I was being _friendly_," Rosto complained after a sigh. "Modern times are cruel when a cove can't be _friendly_." He stepped around Pounce and settled next to me on the floor cloth, giving Jinglenob a distracted scratch on the rump, as my silly beastie had his great nob in Kora's lap. "See if I bring you a treat tomorrow, Master Cat," he told Pounce, before looking to Beka. "Is there a tomorrow? I think this little breakfast idea is quite nice, even with the threats and nasty birds coming and going," he said, as the pigeons resettled on the window ledge, as I predicted they would. They ignored him as they were want to do, too busy fighting over the corn on Beka's ledge. Beka eased from her pose, looking a little ill, probably still dizzy from the healings the kennel mages did after Watch.

"Not tomorrow," she replied, "and Tuesday's our day off," she added, gesturing to me. "I leave early to visit my family, and Kienta visits the Black Gods temple, then goes and works at her Mama's bakery or babysit some of her too-many little siblings." I grinned at her easily. "And tomorrow is our day at Magistrates Court. It starts at sunrise." Rosto grimaced, shuddering, and I grimaced as well. There'd be little sleep for us that night, and we'd be lucky if we didn't sleep through the proceedings.

"Ugh!" the Scanran declared, wrinkling his nose. "They don't pay you enough, sweetheart," he announced, and I don't know if he was still talking to Beka, or if I was included, but I shrugged anyways. Beka scowled.

"Kienta works as a Player, to make up the difference," she told him, "and I get paid enough for me, never you mind yourself, Rosto." I smiled and shook my head at their talk, amused, and leaned past Rosto to pat my dogs' rump lightly. As we sat for a few minutes, just listening to Beka feed her little pigeons and watching them as well, each of us thinking our own thoughts, Verene and Ersken arrived with sausage rolls and gossip.

One of the barons in Unicorn found out his lady wife was canoodling with an Earl and, rank or no, a challenge had been issued. Mistress Bircher, the wife of the head of the Silversmiths' Guild, presented her man with twins, though that was in Flash District. Flash Dogs would enjoy guarding the celebration that bit of joy would cause, and we Lower City Dogs would have a quieter night, seeing as how most of our foists and thieves would go to help themselves. I would bet Kip, Corth, Jorath, and Mark would be there, with Kindle and a man or two of his to watch them. I'd pray that I wouldn't be buying them out of the cages from Flash District Kennel on the morrow, then.

"Remember Alacia?" Verene was saying. "She's another Puppy, named in tribute to His Majesty's first Queen," she told our crooked friends. "Well, till yesterday she was on Day Watch in Unicorn. Then my lord of Olau got word that his youngest and only son has been flirting with a pretty Puppy." I snorted, and had to take a fast drink of raspberry twilsey as I nearly choked to death on my bite of fruit pasty.

"Fast work," Aniki remarked as Rosto smacked me on the back. "You lot have been on duty, what, five days?" I held up four fingers while I wheezed, drinking more twilsey to ease my throat.

"Four, not counting today," Ersken said, as he's always a stickler for numbers…Not that I hadn't just corrected her meself, but, you know.

"Anyway," Verene said. She hates it when wonderful gossip gets interrupted. Beka never interrupts, 'cause she knows she might learn sommat of use which she can pass on to her Dogs or my Lord Provost. I never interrupt because I just don't talk much to anyone. And besides, Verene knows gossip better than any other Dog, since her Ma is a barmaid at Naxen's Fancy, where they hear everything as soon as it happens. "Anyway, the lad's noble father pitched a fit at the Unicorn Kennel, and they switched Alacia with Clarke. He was on Night Watch at Prettybone. So now she's on Night Watch." Rosto looked thoughtful, and rubbed his chin.

"So this Alacia's a sweet armful? I'll look out for her, Dog or not." I rolled my eyes and threw a bit of roll at him for having his head stuck on canoodling so early in the morning. Aniki helped, gifting the light-haired cove a hard elbow to his ribs and an arched brow.

"Don't you have enough women in you life, Rosto?" And, with all the marks of a Player, he turned a somber look to Beka.

"Not without Cooper, I don't." I snorted and quickly shoved a bite of pastry into my mouth at the deadpan expression my best friend sent me, but my shoulders continued to shake in amusement. Ersken spoke up on her behalf, while I tried not to choke on my breakfast.

"Cooper will never go with anyone crooked," he informed the other cove. "A rusher was mean to her mother. She's never forgiven them." Beka was focused once more upon her birds, so we were quick to change the subject, so we wouldn't make her uncomfortable, considering we were in her home.

"Oh, yes!" Verene said suddenly, sitting up straight and turning her pretty hazel eyes towards me and Beka. "Beka!" She called, when our fellow Puppy continued to watch her birds. Beka turned, blinking as though she was being brought from a trance, and I knew she'd been listening to her ghosts.

"You remember that Dog who taught us to tell dice that have been meddled with? He was on Night Watch?" She asked the two of us, eyes gleaming, no doubt about to tell us a good bit of gossip (not necessarily _good_, as in nice, though. Verene had a rather strange joy in finding the nasty and secret murmurs and sharing them like most mots talk of cute animals and good food.).

I dither.

The Dog she spoke of was old Nolan Harvout, and it t'was the best thing, to watch his clever fingers flip dice. He could have any dice, crooked and not, landing just as he wanted them. It was best when he was teaching how to spot Rook Tricks, and he'd toss the die and they'd land, all five, in a circle drawn in the dirt.

In reply to our nods of agreement, Verene drew her finger across her throat, and I grimaced.

"Dead?" Beka whispered, and I moved my hands into prayer, and asked the Black God to guide him safely to the Peaceful Realms.

"And we're not to go to the burying," Ersken told us with a grim nod. "There's a notice up on the Kennel gate. We saw it on our way here." I blinked at that, and then shrugged it off. I'm not at my best at six-of-the-monring. "They found him with his dice in his mouth-all rigged. All crooked. My lord's order, under his seal: 'Bury him with the Dogs, but not _as_ a Dog'." I flinched and, all together, we drew the Sign upon out breast, to ward off evil. Pounce went to Beka as she sat, cross-legged, and Jinglenob trundled his heavy self over to slouch against my side.

There are crooked Dogs. There are kind Rushers. Cruel mothers, gentle soldiers. Rude nobles, and gentlemen mumpers. Humans were made with the ability to use Free Will, to turn out as they chose. We have faults, we grieve, we hate, we lust and envy and shove those we don't understand or like as far from us as we can, with unkind words and actions.

I was raised knowing this (The Black God cares not for any of this, for He is Merciful and grants All entrance to the Peaceful Realms. Amen.)

But, it is one thing to know something, and quite another to know someone you have met, has fallen so low.

A Crooked Dog is worse than a Rat, and should be dealt as such, sent to trial for his or her crimes.

Death is not the right of Common People to order. There are laws and Magistrate's for a reason, and good Dogs, too.

Still, I would pray for him tonight, and add his name to the list I would pray for at the Temple on Tuesday.

It was only right.

For a time, we sat and talked, but as the sun rose higher, I was forced to take my leave, and make my way to Faraway's.

My soon-to-be ex-employer didn't show his murrain-ridden face at all, though I heard his voice, screeching at my fellow Players.

I wonder how many will leave as I will in the coming days?

The Noble had returned for my last set, pretty daughter in tow, and I once more brought the children up onto the stage to dance with me as I sang a Carthaki song about their goddess, the Graveyard Hag, and some great trick she played upon a long-ago Emperor.

"I'll not be Playin' here much longer, milord," I told him quietly as I handed sweet Mikyla to him while she giggled and grinned. "Master Faraway's been gettin' a bit too nasty fer me ta stay much longer." He nodded slightly, and slipped me another beautiful soft pouch of coin.

"If you send word to Duke Petris Duveer, in Highfields, when you've found other employment, we would much appreciate it, pretty flower," he told me, and smiled at me with enough charm to send _any_ mot all a'quiver.

"As you wish, milord," I murmured, and smiled back, giving him and his gixie a wink as they left on their fancy steeds, with their guards (there were five of those, now, and all looking nervous and eagle-eyed with their lordling away from their group).

I left barely any coin for Faraway, and no amount written down for him, because he was naught but a guttersnipe anyways. Mama was grateful for the coin, and the lordling had gifted me six gold nobles and ten silver nobles, as well.

I need to take all this gold to be exchanged someday soon, and quick-like. Coins like that are noisy, no matter how quiet you keep their existence, and a hidden mousehole is far less safe than I want it to be.

Mayhap's I can get Jorath to magic my rooms for protection and against theft? I shall ask Tuesday, after Temple.

Now I am kilted out in my uniform, and ready for my Watch.

Black God smile upon all those I care for!

_After My Watch_

Tonight, my Dog's and I were to patrol the edge of the Cesspool. There weren't as many nasty brawls here, nor as many fights, but that wasn't to say there weren't _any_.

We'd broken up three tavern brawls a'fore someone summoned us with a whistle for murder near-abouts, and my Dog's answered with heavy frowns and narrowed eyes.

"Stay close, Bails," Finch ordered. "This isn't the kind'a business we can bash with our sap's to teach it better." Ferrows spat to the side, and I could only nod grimly back, tightening my hold on Jinglenob's cord and making sure he didn't step on sommat important, as we came upon the two Dogs who'd whistled.

Clayterly Jarvem, a seven-year Dog, and his partner, Denette Sandall, a three-year Dog that was puking her guts up in a heap of garbage nearby, were before a side-alley next to one of the cheap lodgings Doxies and Spintries were want to use, when they had a customer.

"Th' raw'un is down there," Jarvem said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder and spitting to the side, scruffy face grim in the dim lighting. My Dog's and I stepped past him to look in and see what had caused such a ruckus with these two Dogs.

"Mirthos," Finch muttered, grimacing as Ferrows cursed and glared into the dim alley. I just stood and took in the scene with a morose expression and an worried twist in my gut at the familiarity of that alley.

The mot had been pretty, once, he bloody face turned towards me, head too far from her torso. Wide blue eyes, and long hair, dark from either nature or gore, strewed about her like a veil of shadow. She was dressed in a blue-dyed wool dress, and her feet shod in the same cove-pleasin' slippers as the poor mumper from before.

She'd been hacked to pieces smaller than her predecessor, but they were closer than the way the first mot's had been flung from her.

Black God take you safely to the Peaceful Realms, poor mot, I prayed. And mayhap take your killer there soon as well.

Another Dog pair had arrived whilst my Dogs and I looked the scene over, a Scent Hound pair who I only knew as Drew and Phillard, and their black hound named Sock for the single white paw. Much like Achoo, however, Sock couldn't find the scent.

"Magic'd," Drew informed us, her voice sour, and the Senior Dogs all spit to the side. T'was nasty business, a Magic'd Rat, and it looked like it would get nastier a'fore we caught the scut.

"Some'un get a Black God Carriage," Finch ordered with a low huff. "Let's send this poor mumper off right." Drew and Phillard did that, while Jarvem went into the keep lodgings next to us, to ask about witnesses and buy a blanket to carry the dead in. Sandall was trying to catch her breath and not lose what was left of her insides, and so she'd be no help.

Once more, my Dogs and I handled the dead, and, once more, I gave her a prayer before the cart carried her off, to be cleaned and mayhaps buried, should someone pay for it.

It was just another nameless soul to add to my list for prayers on Tuesday.

"Come on, Bails," Finch ordered, as we returned to our patrol, hands and clothes once more covered in drying blood, gore, and scummer.

We were a bit harder on mischeif-makers that night, my Dogs frustrated by this Rat who magic'd himself, and I frustrated for both the same, and the lack of names these poor mots had.

Another brawl, a domestic issue between a mot and her man arguing over rent, and two attempted rapes, left us all wishing for the heart of the Cesspool, so we might work our frustrations out proper against the nobs of the scummer that lived there.

It was an unsatisfying Watch, all together, and my skin itched with filth and extra energy, and too few bruises for them to matter at all.

Muster came, and my Dogs once again squirreled me off the to Dog Baths, and we cleaned in silence before parting ways.

This night has left a nasty taste in my mouth, and the longing to hobble the Rat that left those poor mots in pieces in back alleys, like the unwanted cuts at a butcher.

I shall pray for them before I sleep, and pray that we catch their killer soon.

Now, I must stop writing if I'm to pray at all, as it's Court Day on the morrow.

Black God bless us.

**A/N:** Boredom leads to random fics being worked on, don't judge me.

**Vocab**

Canoodling - Sexual Activity

Carthak - Ancient & powerful slave-holding empire that includes all of the Southern Lands, a storehouse of learning, sophistication, and culture.

Hobble - Tie up; arrest

Mirthos - Cheif god of the Tortallan pantheon, God of War and the Law; his symbol is the sun. _(Also God of good Dog's, four-legged and two-legged)_

Mumper - Begger

Murrain - Plague

Raston - Bread loaf stuffed with buttery bread crumbs and light filling.

Raw one - dead body

Rusher - Thug

Scut - Idiot

**Bails Brood**

_Because someone asked about how big Kienta's family was, and I miscounted in an earlier chapter and said 25, but there's only 19 children, not counting the unborn._

**PARENTS:**

**Farren** - Kienta's father, High Priest of the Black God, deceased.

**Milony** - Kienta's mother, Baker, believed Blessed by the Gods, with her large, healthy brood and their lack of death.

**Kindle** - Kienta's Stepfather, Rusher, works for Ulsa.

**CHILDREN: **_(Name - Age, Job, Place they Work/Live)_

_**Farren & Milony's Children**_

**Jakoul** - 24, High Priest of the Black God, Port Caynn

**Lyddy** - 23, Doxie, Port Caynn

**Markus** - 21, High Priest of the Black God, Port Caynn

**Baret **- 19, Spintry, Port Caynn

**Kienta** - 16, Puppy, Lower City, Corus

**Kip** - 14, Messenger, Corth's Twin, All Districts, Corus

**Corth** - 14, Messenger, Kip's Twin, All Districts, Corus

**Maggie** - 13, Assistant Baker, Fintel's Twin, Lower City, Corus

**Fintel** - 13, Assistant Baker, Maggie's Twin, Lower City, Corus

_**Kindle & Milony's Children**_

Jessabel - 12, Player in Training, Lower City, Corus

Jorath - 11, Mage in Training, best at Fighting with some ability in cooking magic, protects home. Lower City, Corus

Nikolai (Nik) - 10, Very Pretty Boy, wants to be a Spintry, Lower City, Corus

Siarana - 8, Player in training, Tinsle's Twin, Lower City, Corus

Tinsle - 8, Player in Training, Siarana's Twin, Lower City, Corus

Oriver - 7, fascinated with Dog work, calls Tunstall "Owl Dog", Lower City, Corus

Cail - 6, has a minor Gift, Lower City, Corus

Kala - 5, Want's to be an Acrobatic Player, Kir's Twin, Lower City, Corus

Kir - 5, like's to fight and want's to be a Rusher, Kala's Twin, Lower City, Corus

Mark - 4, Thief in Training, Magpie Syndrome (Obsessed with sparklie & shiny things), Lower City, Corus

Hanse - 3, already likes to pick fights, Rusher in the making, Leorn's Twin, Lower City, Corus

Leorn - 3, Photographic Memory, adores Dog's, Dog in the Making, Hanse's Twin, Lower City, Corus

Mick - 2, Magic, can change hair from natural red to white, loathes cats, Lower City, Corus


	9. Puppy Problems: Day 6

**A/N:** Still bored. Here.

_The Journal of_

_Kienta Bails_

_**Monday, April 6, 246**_

COURT DAY!

Let me announce, here and now, that I already loath Court Days. May the cracknob who decided that we should start this sarden thing so early in the morn, be forever cursed, and his gems fall off.

I'm not one for mornings.

I had enough time, on my way to the Magistrate's Court in the Lower City, to grab myself a few fritters while dropping Jinglenob off at Mama's stall to guard while I was at Court, but otherwise had naught to eat. I wish I was still in my nice, warm bed, but Monday was the Evening Watch Court Day, and, as a member of said Watch, I was acquired to attend. If I didn't, I'd best be at the Temple for healing, because Sir Tullus of King's Reach, the Magistrate who covered our Watch's arrests, would send his own, personally Healer to your doorstep if you tried to stay home with an illness.

I sat between Finch and Ferrows, and tried to pay at least _some_ attention as Dogs stood and reported what their Rat's had done, and the Rat's who could afford an Advocate or had a patron that could, attempted to get smaller sentences. Those that couldn't, were out of luck, although their loved ones could plead for leniency through the Provost's Advocate, who would gather all the evidence he or she could from neighbors and witnesses. If they didn't, after all, the Nobles get up in arms about "injustice".

They can swive themselves, and shut their gobs, if the only thing that'll come out of 'em is pretty scummer.

I dither, as I'm want to do when bored.

There were light and hard sentences that, depending on the crime, the lawyer, and the number of previous arrests, that Sir Tullus could give the Rats. Lighter sentences were things like: fines, lashes, time in the stocks or Outwall Prison, or work inside Corus or out on a farm. Harder sentences, however, could go from labor on the realm's roads, mines, docks, or quarries, to death, for murderers and arsonists.

As a Puppy, I'd only ever have to stand up and speak should I deal with a Rat outside my Dog's line of sight, but that seemed unlikely so early in my Puppy Year, as we were spending most of the time in all-out brawls, cracking nob's rather than hobbling Rats. Still, we'd grabbed several rapists and illegal child-sellers, and those cracknob's who had pulled blades on us in our tussles, so Finch and Ferrows would have to stand and give their reports.

There was a crowd, as there usually was for this thing, standing beyond the bars up behind the Dog seats. In the crowd were family, friends, and sweethearts to the Rats, and they had plenty to say to us Dogs, whether we were the ones who had vexed them or not. And there were those who'd come just to gawk, and see what they believed was a bit of Player's Jollity, seeing what happened when Rat's were dragged out in front of the Magistrate, what happened when the folk around them kicked up a fuss.

There were Court Dogs along that barred-wall, meant to keep the crowd in check and quiet, but, just from what little I'd seen, they weren't much good at it.

At the front of the room, the mages sat, ready to keep their arrested ilk in check. Sitting next to one of the mages, was the Magistrate's Herald, in one hand a long list, and in the other his staff. His job was reading off the name of a Rat, names of the Dog involved, and the charges.

At the Great Desk, higher than the rest of us, and flanked by two uniformed soldiers to represent the King's authority, was the Magistrate himself. Sir Tullus has ruled on Evening Watch cases for the past six years, and, while he t'wasn't too patient with those that dithered, he knew a far bit more of the law than many others, and was rather fair.

Hours went by slowly, as Rat after Rat was brought up, each case heard, each involved Dog reporting, and each sentence handed out.

It was horribly boring, and I'd long gotten tired of reading the stories other Dog's had carved into the backs of the seats before me, and watching the crowd.

However, at about three of the afternoon, Orva Ashmiller was brought up, and I found myself sitting up, narrowing my eyes, and taking in the child-beater who'd attacked Clary with a blade.

In the light of day, she looked like the midden-hen I'd once called her, caked in cage muck and chained with shackles which looked too-large on her skinny wrists and ankles. She looked a pitying sight, but I felt none. This woman attacked her children, her man, a Dog, and, from what Beka has told me, had tried to stab my best friend in the back when she'd given chase.

I hoped she got exiled, at _least_.

And then she caught sight of Beka.

"You _bitch_!" She howled, a mad thing, and lunged towards my friend. She'd caught the cage Dog's napping, but, before the scuts could collect themselves, Orva fell headlong, ankle chains tripping her up. She scrabbled to her hands and knees, and began to shriek, spittle flying from her mouth, eyes wide and lips curled in rage.

"You took my children from me!" She howled at Beka. "You turned my man agin' me, you puttock, you trollop, you trull-" She lunged and fell again, and I hissed lowly and spat, glaring at her and ignoring the sharp looks my Dogs gave me.

Now I knew why she was still chained, when other Rat's weren't.

"I'll cut your liver out, you poxied leech!" Orva continued to screech. "Why wouldn't you let me go?! You ruined my life!"

_You did that yourself, puttock_, I thought viciously, and just barely kept from spitting again, though that was more from the sharp glare Finch gave me, rather than any self-restraint on my half.

Meanwhile, the crowd that had come for entertainment, hooted and whistled, egging the wench on. The cage Dogs finally got there sorry selves up, and got her to her feet, hauling her by the arms and making sure she couldn't kick them.

"Mama!" A young gixies voice cried, and I hissed softly, more irked by her presence than horrified. What kinda mot laid an unkind hand on their child, when their child still loved them after? The midden-hen was still screaming, spit running down her chin and out of her mouth, eyes wild.

T'was no thing a child should see.

Orva didn't so much as glance at her little ones or her man, though she seemed perfectly fine screeching at Beka about how my friend had stolen them from her.

"Steady, Bails," Finch growled, one of his hands clenching around my wrist like a vice. It would be bruised later, I knew, but, at the moment, it helped ground me. I took slow, deep breaths, and closed my eyes as the Herald banged his staff, though all it did was add noise as Orva's gixies began screaming and her little lad crying.

Finally, Sir Tullus ordered the cage Dogs to gag Orva, and to take the screaming children from the room. The crowd yelled and hollered, their entertainment taken away.

"The case of Mistress Orva Ashmiller, resident of Mulberry Way," the Herald announced, his fine, ringing voice bouncing about the worn, smooth wood of the floor and walls. "Charges: Striking Provost's Guardswoman Clara Goodwin while Guardswoman Goodwin acted to uphold the King's law together with Guard Matthias Tunstall and trainee Guardswoman Rebakah Cooper."

"Struck a Guard?" Sir Tulles asked, scowling. "Report."

"This day comes to all trainee Guards, Rebakah Cooper," Sir Tullus announced, and I realized why no one had stood to report, wincing in silent sympathy for my painfully shy friend as I noticed her sitting stock-still over with her Dogs. "Your day has only come earlier than most. Speak up. The sooner you begin the telling, the sooner you may go." My friend stumbled to her feet, white as a sheet and looking like she wanted nothing more than to cower back between her Dogs and disappear.

"I-We," she started, stumbling over the words, "were w-walking the-the rounds when we, um, we heard violence. Milord." You could barely hear her, her head down, eyes huge.

"Look up, Guardswoman, and speak up," Sir Tullus said, sounding rather kind despite his supposed impatience with dithering. "Just tell it. What happened?" After several moments where Beka started, slowly stumbling her way through the tale, but only able to reach her explanation of how much of a mess Master Ashmiller was, the Knight took pity on her... Or his impatience finally won out. "Enough. Tunstall, continue."

"Bit skittish, yer friend is," Ferrows muttered to me; I shrugged. "Leastwise she can speak, though," he mocked; I rolled my eyes faintly and shrugged again, listening as Mattes reported all that had happened, clearly and pointedly, while Beka covered her face with her hands and desperately tried to center herself. I sent up a prayer to the Black God, asking Him to give her peace of mind, so that she wouldn't panic quite so much.

"Orva escaped through the open window," Mattes was saying, before he paused and cleared his throat a little uncertainly.

"She knew there were stairs without?" Sir Tullus asked with mild curiosity, before nodding at the Senior Dog. "Go on. I assume you captured her outside."

"No, Sir Knight," Tunstall told him, clearing his throat again and obviously trying not to look at Beka, who suddenly looked as if she would once again either throw up or pass out, poor mot.

"But you said that Goodwin was unable to give chase," Sir Tullus reminded Tunstall with a slight frown.

"I did, Sir Knight," the Hillman acknowledged, starting to rub his beard, as he was want to do, whenever he was uncertain of what to say.

"Ah," Sir Tullus said, obviously clicking to what was happening. "Stand up and try again, Cooper," he ordered; there was a moan from the crowd, and my friend stood shakily, before glancing down at something near her feet. She seemed to gain a bit of strength from whatever was done there, though, when she spoke, it was too quiet. Clearing her throat, she tried again, voice louder though shaky with nerves.

"Sir Knight, I went after her," she told Sir Tullus, and the court. "She would not halt when I bade her to, so I gave chase. I caught her."

"Where, Cooper?" The Magistrate asked with a well of patience; mayhaps he had a soft spot for frightened Puppies, as he'd yet to snap and order her to stand tall and report strong. Mayhaps he wasn't as impatient as I'd been led to believe. He wasn't this day, at least.

"At the Sheepmire Tavern, Sir Knight," Beka told him; I did a quick check of my mental map of the Lower City, and resisted the urge to give a whistle of appreciation. Mulberry Way was on the edge of the Cesspool, close to the Nightmarket, but the Sheepmire Tavern, on Spindle Lane, was barely a block from North Gate. She'd chased the mumper from one end of the Cesspool to the other, and not in any straight line, neither!

"He wont know where that is!" Ersken hissed, too loud, but ever sweetly helpful. Fulk heard, and laughed like the braying jackass he is. I snarled at him, but Finch's hand, still shackling my wrist, kept me both in my seat and from making any other sound. Clary rose from her chair, however, and stalked up to the bars, smacking her baton against them harshly. Those holding onto them, were quick to leap away, else their fingers get a nasty smack.

Of course, they hit those behind them, and some went down in a heap of limbs and curses.

"Silence!" She shouted in her crowd voice. "I don't know what manner of Player's Jollity you thought you came here for, you scuts, but you were dead wrong! This is a court of the realm's law. Shut your gob's or I'll come back there and crack skulls!"

Black God smile upon that woman. She's the kinda mot a gixie can look up to and want to be when they grew into their skins.

Th Court Dogs finally woke up, and realized they should probably be doing their jobs. They moved, now, into the crowd, hands on their batons, and Clary moved back to her seat, replacing her baton in its straps.

"Thank you, Guardswoman Goodwin," Sir Tullus called, voice dry as Crookshank's pox-ridden heart. "It is a pleasure to watch you restore quiet to my court. Continue, Guardswoman Cooper. The Sheepmire Tavern...?" He mayhaps would have arched a brow, but from my seat, he looked to have only a single, long brow, which did not help his looks at all, with his beard-shadowed jowls and red complexion.

I wonder now if he'd spent too long facing the sun?

"Spindle Lane, Sir Knight," Beka answered him; the Knight blinked.

"I have no idea where that is," he admitted freely; Tunstall stood.

"It's but a short walk from the North Gate, Sir Knight," he informed the Nobleman, before giving Beka a pat on the shoulder and re-taking his seat. Sir Tullus' unfortunate eyebrow shot forward upward, towards his forehead.

"_From Mulberry Way to North Gate?!_" The stunned, disbelief in his voice was clear, and I twitched a bit, uncertain if I found his shock funny or his disbelief irritating on Beka's behalf.

"I-I-" Beka stumbled, stuttering. "Forgive me, milord, sorry, Sir Knight, but we went by back ways and through a few..." She took a shuddering breath. "There was alleys and between houses and she went through a couple of drinking dens and I caught her by going around one, Sir Knight, then I hobbled her and we got a cart ride back to the Kennel and I know I wasn't s'posed to arrest her but I had her and so I told her she was arrested and then my Dogs-'scuze me, my Guards-they done it proper when I got her to the guardhouse." I won't lie, specially here, but I was mighty impressed my friend said all that on a single breath, and rather worried to, as she continued to babble on. "I'm sorry for her children and her man, but they're cracknobs for wanting someone who breaks crockery on their faces and tries to cut them with a dreadful big knife, with apologies, Sir Knight." Her hands clamped onto her babbling mouth, and she seemed to struggle not to ramble any further.

Verene, who was sat behind Beka, poked her to get her attention, and handed her a flask. From the way my friend gratefully chugged it, it was some sort of twisley. Sir Tullus' mouth twitched a bit, before steadying as she handed the flask back and peered up at him from beneath her bangs.

"Better, Guardswoman?" He asked, scratching his head. Beka nodded, before a kick from someone had her rephrasing.

"Yes, sir, thank you, Sir Knight."

"Perhaps you would be so good as to explain _why_ you went to such trouble, if you please," the Nobleman suggested patiently. "You show a degree of...enthusiasm that is unusual, even for a trainee Guard."

"Sir?" Beka asked, befuddled.

"Why did you not let her go?" He asked, and explained himself. "You could have returned for her another day." Beka looked torn between disbelief, confusion, and horror at the suggestion.

"Sir Knight, she _struck_ Guardswoman Goodwin," she reminded, in a tone that sounded like she wished to speak slower, like on did to a particularly slow person. "With a knife. Not the sharp end, but it might've been. Orva couldn't be let to get away with it, sir."

"And why not?" he prodded again; Beka's brows furrowed as she tried to explain her reasons.

"Sir Knight, striking a Dog with a knife... It's a serious thing," she started slowly. "A Dog is the face of... _We're_ the face of..." She took a deep breath, and steadied. "The Dogs are the face of the law. We're so few. Nobody wants the work. So the realm says: '_We_ value Dogs. We set the price high for them as turns a blade on a Dog'. If the realm values us enough to make the law and the penalties like we have, _I_ must value us Dogs enough to catch them as breaks the law. Mustn't I, Sir Knight?" The room was silent, as everyone took in her words. I felt proud of my friend, though I was a bit bemused as well.

It was the most I'd ever heard her say, in front of so many people.

At last, Sir Tullus spoke.

"Guardswoman Cooper, Corporal Guardswoman Goodwin is a true hero in the Provost's Guard. She has recovered large amounts of property, brought hundreds to justice, and saved countless lives. You are right. Her life and work are valuable to this court. You may be seated." As Beka obeyed, I forced myself to keep from clapping, and instead leaned around Finch to flash my relieved-looking friend a grin and a nod of approval, before a sharp elbow it the shoulder from my Dog had me sitting back once again.

"Orva Ashmiller, have you an advocate to speak for you?" Sir Tullus asked, patient voice turned cool and distant.

"She does not," the Provost's Advocate announced calmly. "Her husband, Jack Ashmiller, begs the mercy of this court. He asks that his wife be granted a fine or work and imprisonment within the city. I have also gathered the complaints of Mistress Ashmiller's neighbors. They state that she has repeatedly given her husband and children bleeding injuries, bruises, and broken bones. They ask for the peace of their homes that Mistress Ashmiller receive a sentence to prison or to exile from the city of Corus. He walked up to the Magistrate and presented him with a paper.

Sir Tullus read through the paper, before casting his dark eyes on Orva, who was still gagged, chest heaving like an angry cow. I imagined the good Knight looked as disgusted as I felt, for a moment, but t'was difficult to tell. Some Nobles could hide their true thoughts like Master Players, behind masks and fake emotions.

I wonder, now, why Jack Ashmiller never stood up to his wife. Most cases in the Lower City, coves gave as good as they got, whether their opponent was a mot or another cove, yet, for all appearances, Master Ashmiller had never laid an unlawful finger upon his wife. I felt a bit of respect for his self-control, but not for him.

Any who lay a hand on my children, or siblings, like Orva Ashmiller did her man and children, would be greeting either my God or my baton, no matter how much I loved them.

"You neighbors should have come to this court long ago, Mistress Ashmiller," Sir Tullus informed the mot seriously; the crazed mot started to struggle in the grips of the cage Dogs, no doubt sensing that no good news was going to come her way. "Orva Ashmiller, it is the judgement of this court that you go to the royal work farm in the town of Whitethorn. You will labor there for five years for disturbing your neighbors' peace, for violence against your family, and for the crime of wielding a blade against a representative of the King's peace. Should you try to escape the farm and return to Corus, you will be branded and sold into slavery." He struck the bronze sun disk on his desk with his polished granite ball, the sign that judgement had been made, and the cage Dogs carried Orva off to the cages, to await transport.

Good riddance on bad rubbish.

"Next case," Sir Tullus told the Herald, and I settled in to wait.

The evening lamps had to be lit, long before the Evening Watches cases had all been seen to. Ferrows had brought along a basket of apples and rastons, which he reluctantly shared with me and Finch, after the two had given their last report. Despite the food, however, near about ever Dog and Puppy in the room had a growling stomach by the time the good Knight had struck his sun disk on the final judgement.

My first day of court was finished.

I must remember to bring sommat to entertain myself next week, elsewise I may just try and hobble someone myself, to save myself from boredom.

Black God bless.


	10. Puppy Problems: Day 7

**A/N:** Answers some questions about Jinglenob and Kienta's muteness, at least a little, in this chapter. Also WARNING! Connotations to religion, and religious World Building in this chapter!

**oOoOoOo**

_The Journal of_

_Kienta Bails_

_**Tuesday, April 7, 246**_

Despite going to bed early yestereve, as the Court Day meant us Evening Watch Dogs and Puppies wouldn't be walking our Watch, I woke up at four of the morning on my day off, Jinglenob yawning in my face, with a case of morning breath so foul I wondered if he'd been eating scummer all his life.

Escaping _that_ nasty surprise, I stumbled about my rooms, and managed to dress myself in simple brown leggings and a gray tunic, before gathering all the Player's garb I'd worn the week previous, and dumping it into a linen bag. I'd drop it off at Mama's when I stopped by to pick up my Priestess robes, so that they'd be clean and ready tomorrow.

"C'mon, Jinglenob," I muttered, yawning, and I pulled on my uniform boots and flung the linen bag over my shoulder, grabbing my brute's rope as I led him out of the lodgings. Not many were up and about, this time of day. Drunkards were staggering and stumbling their ways to somewhere they could sleep, stall owners and food shops were just beginning to start cooking their fare. Night Watch Dogs wandered aimlessly, boredly, without even the courteously of a greeting nod in my direction. An unlucky few were stumbling their way down towards the Waterfront District, to begin their Dockwork, or looking for said work.

Mama's house was dark, but I'd barely stepped onto the path when the front door opened, and Mama stood there with a sleepy smile, my robe's in hand, the black cloth looking bulkier than I'd last seen. I arched a brow at that, and set my linen bag down next to her feet.

"Ye've got a Novice ta be takin' wich'ya now, Sweetling," she said, and pulled an odd contraption of Black God Priestley wear from my own. She handed me my robes and, bemused, I neatly pulled them on, tucking my bright hair under a sheer black scarf to turn the ice-blond strands gray, to match the Priestess gray hems that lined the arms and underside of my Temple garb. I turned and watched as she neatly dressed Jinglenob up, his cord curled up on the ground where she'd left it.

Strang black leggings enfolded his four legs, held up by a black-dyed strap of leather across his shoulders and lower back. A black scarf wrapped around his neck lightly, and a homemade black robe, edged in Novice white, tied snuggly at the base of his throat, the hood hooking over his ears neatly, and the attached black veil sliding loosely over his muzzle in proper fashion for a true Priest, as my dog stared up at me with a peculiar, somber expression.

"Now 'e's fit fer Temple," Mama declared, before she stood and turned to give me a hug, kissing my cheek. "Black God bless, Kienta," she murmured, pulling my hood up and blinking tear-bright eyes.

"Black God bless, Mama," I murmured, and kissed her cheek in reply, before I gently closed my own veil, dressed now as a proper Black God Priestess, on business (were I not on business, both veil and hood would be drawn down.). Nodding my head to her, I tucked my hands into my sleeves, and led the way silently towards the Temple District, Jinglenob walking silently at my side.

"You're a bit God-Touched, aren't you," I murmured to him as we walked, watching as early morning mots and coves moved quickly but respectfully from my path, sending confused, disbelieving looks at my dog as we moved through the streets. Jinglenob made a low, huffing sound, and I hummed, not wanting to question further while still feeling inordinately curious.

If you poke at the Gods doings, they're liable to poke you back.

Still, it would explain both his intelligence and his sudden taking to me, as most fighting dogs were more likely to bite you then let you near them.

Mayhaps I should have given him a better name.

The main roads I take to the Temple District, lead me through the end of Patten, and the end of Upmarket, before a slow incline through higher-class streets leveled out to the guarded gates of my destination. I nodded silently at the guards, Warriors of one Temple or another, and they let me through with cordial nods in reply, though their eyes lingered on Jinglenob. They said nothing, however, and we carried on. Pass the Wavewalker's blue Temple, and several others from all over Tortall, even groups of shrines for the various Trickster Gods, as none were foolish enough to risk the wrath of whichever Trickster they'd insult by claiming to be their Priest or Priestess.

At last, the Black Gods Temple stood before me, a dark, gray-marbled Temple, with veins of obsidian coiling through it in whirls and angled lines, like lightning and dust-spinners etched into the stone.

"Friend Bails," a low, soothing voice greeted, forcing me to pull my wondering eyes from the depictions in my Temples walls. Standing in the open doorway of the Temple was the High Priest, Tomlyn Locks, his hood down and veil unworn, stating he had no current business. Quickly, I lowered my own hood and veil, and inclined my head deeply.

"Friend Locks," I greeted respectfully; his deep-set green eyes watched me serenely, before lowering to observe Jinglenob, who had somehow undone his own veil and knocked back his hood (the God Touched belief has grown stronger, and I am mostly sold upon that idea).

"You have brought with you one who wishes to join our ranks?" Locks asked gently; I inclined my head.

"My companion, Jinglenob Bails," I introduced; Locks' slightly-full lips twitched beneath his sharp nose, and he inclined his head.

"Welcome, then, Novice Bails," he greeted, before gesturing the two of us into the Temple. "We have work to be done." I nodded, and pulled both my hood and veil back into place, doing the same quickly for Jinglenob, before we followed the High Priest inside.

The smell of incense was familiar and soothing from where it wafted from the prayer stalls just inside the doorway. There, one could buy prayers, incense, and small prayer-candles, and light them in the ritual basins that lined the room, for personal prayers and silent contemplation. If those grieving did not wish to be alone, they could join the Novices and occasional Adepts upon the wooden pews farther into the room, before a small dais, where the High Priest or Priestess (Lady Oswen Stonuels of Tusaine, second daughter to Duke Addicus Stonuels, who owned a very impressive number of quarries where criminals were sentenced) would give a sermon upon the Peaceful Realms, and the Mercy and Kindness of the Black God.

Two doors were placed beyond the dais, hidden mostly in shadow. One led to the Cleansing Hall, where the dead were taken to be washed, and prepared for their burial, should someone pay for it. Unclaimed dead, or those who cannot afford a burial, are cremated, to prevent the spread of diseases and plague. Should the family, loved ones, or friends be unable or unwanting to do the cleaning themselves, or if the dead has no one to claim them, then it is the job of myself and the other Priests and Priestesses to do so. Adepts were allowed to observe, and only expected to assist when the number of dead grew too high for us to proceed.

The second door lead to the Private Sanctum, where those who wished to follow the Black Gods' Option, but did not want their family or any other to deal with finding them, could die in comfort and security, and trust that their body would be well taken care of.

There would be no sermon for a long while, however, as it was moving into late spring, and the number of bodies being brought in from the Lower City and Cesspool, as well as other Districts, was steadily rising higher.

"Novice Bails, please join your brothers and sisters to begin your lessons," Locks ordered Jinglenob gently, and my dog huffed out an agreeing sound quietly, before leaving my side to join his fellow Novices, most of them little lads and gixies of but twelve-years-old, the youngest one can begin training as one of the Black Gods' worshipers.

I followed on, as Locks led me into the Cleansing Room, which held a large, empty space and a metal table in the center, with a smaller table covered in a neat pile of folded linen sheets and a box which held several tools to help keep the dead from falling apart set directly next to it. The floor held several small grates, for draining the water as the bodies were cleaned. at one end of the metal table was a barrel, which was regularly refilled by Adepts with water from the well behind the Temple. There were two doors here, as well. One I knew led to the Cold Room, a magic'd room where the bodies were placed so that they did not rot any longer, until they could be seen to. The other door was the Closet, where the donated clothes was.

(Often the nobles feel like they've done some good deed that absolves them of all wrong, when they leave their fancy cast-offs for the dead. I just think that, if more of their coin went to helping the _living_, mayhaps not so many dead would _need_ the donated clothes.)

"You'll be needed here for a while, I'm afraid," Locks informed me as he handed me the Black God's Assistant's Medallion (A simple, obsidian circle, magic'd so nothing would stick to them that wore it. It meant that no blood or scummer or elsewise nasty business would dirty up my robes.) "Several of our fellow worshippers have deigned from showing, as of late." I nodded, and watched as he disappeared back into the main chamber.

Taking a deep breath, I entered the Cold Room, and grimaced at the seven bodies laying already in there. Four were mumpers, and well on their way to rotting. Two were river dodgers, and looked like they'd both gone out in a fight. The last was a young mot who looked to have taken the Black God's Option, her wrists slit and dressed in her best wool dress and slippers.

She reminded me too much of those two nameless mots in the alleys, so I quickly turned my attention to the mumpers, moving one into the Cleansing Room, and onto the metal table.

The poor cove I'd picked was a rotting mess, and I would always be grimly grateful for the amount of magic that kept the smell from the bodies once they entered the Temple.

"May the Black God guide you swiftly to the Peaceful Realms, my friend," I murmured to the corpse. "You deserve the rest." With a sigh, I got to work.

I wont write about the time I spent, cleansing the dead. It isn't work one speaks of, not for embarrassment or any such fool thing, but out of respect for those who've gone on to the Peaceful Realms. The body is naught but a shell, once the soul has left it, but it t'was a shell that had cradled and cared for that soul. 'Tis disrespectful, to speak of it, when you strip from it the signs of its trials.

Instead, I shall tell you that I spent many hours in that room, and more dead then those seven came to me. For a short time, High Priest Locks brought in the newer Adepts, so that they could observe a proper Cleansing. I paused near-abouts ten of the morning to eat some food with High Priestess Stonuels when she arrived to take over the Novices.

When noon came, I prepared to take my leave, ready to go and assist my Mama and siblings with the baking, when a new body came in. This one was a gixie, no older than seven, journeying with her weeping mother, and older brother (he looked to be about ten, mayhaps eleven years of age).

The mot looked so lost in her grief, the lad shaking and shell-shocked, and the poor gixie had been roughed up, I didn't hesitate to step forward and clasp the mot's hands gently in mine.

"Mother, she is safe within the Peaceful Realms, now," I told her softly, as her brown, teary eyes stared at me. "What lies before you is naught but the shell that cradled her here. The Black God is both kind and merciful. She knows no pain, sorry, or fear now. She is _safe_." The mot shuddered, and closed her eyes. I glanced at the lad, and nodded him softly towards the door. He stumbled over there shakily, and I knew he'd be cared for, either pulled as a visiter into the Novices, or comforted by one of the other Friends, most probably Priestess Bellona Reed, who was a kind, matronly woman who always took the grieving in hand, especially the children.

"Would you like help, in cleansing her?" I asked the mot kindly; she nodded jerkily, and I led her carefully to the table.

"H-her name is Siana," the mot whispered, as she stood, shaking hands curled into her gixies bloody hair.

"A pretty name," I murmured; the mot would be no help, as most were when their children lay here. I listened to her, however, as she spoke of her child's life, while I washed the dirt and blood from her small body, removed her stained and filthy Cesspool garb, and replaced it with a soft white dress and loincloth from the Closet. The gixie had been blond, her untangled hair (which her mother had slowly brushed while telling me shakily about how much little Siana had loved the action) reached her shoulders. Her mother braided it with a white ribbon, and I set a headband with a tiny row of flowers onto her head.

Her bruised covered by magic'd creams, cleaner and better dressed than she'd been in her entire short life, little Siana looked like she'd have been the happiest little gixie in all of Corus.

I hoped the Black God has flowers in the Peaceful Realms, because little Siana looked like she'd enjoy a field of them to play in while she rested.

"Thank you," her mother, who's name I finally learned was Gioney Nettlebind, whispered. I bowed my head to her, before I left her to go retrieve her little lad.

I found him sitting with the Novices, arms curled around my Jinglenob's shoulders, and listening intently to what High Priestess Stonuels was teaching them. I walked over and gently touched the lad's shoulder, kneeling down to hold his eyes. They were dark blue, with some gray in them, like the sea with a storm on the horizon.

"Your sister is ready, young Gary," i told him softly; he looked down, but nodded, reluctantly releasing his hold on Jinglenob. I took his hand in mine and led him toward the Cleansing Room.

"T'was an acciden'," he told me quietly as we neared the door; I looked down at him with a blink. He looked inordinately somber for a young lad, though he'd all rights to be. "We was playin', and Sia', she's al'ays goin' abou', tryin' ta be bigg'r 'en she is, y'see? She though' she t'was big enou' ta be roughin' wi' us lads, but we sen' 'er 'ome instead. She go' mad, 'n ran down th' stree', sayin' she was gonna be tellin' ta Ma. She tripped, on th' cobbles, an' 'it 'er nob on th' corner." Tears slipped down his face as he looked up at her. "I carried 'er 'ome as fas' I could, an' she was still breathin' an' th' like, but, by th' time we was in th' Goddesses Temple, she was wi' th' Black God." I set a hand on his shoulder, and stopped him before the door of the Cleansing Room. I knelt down, and turned him towards me, holding his eyes with mine.

"Things like that happen, lad," I told him quietly, and slipped into Cesspool cant myself, relaxing him further. "Little'uns play an' git hurt an' me God comes an' leads 'em on ta the Peaceful Realms ta rest. Is apar' o' life, little lad, an' no more yer fault th'n mine." He sniffled, and swiped his sleeve over his face.

"D'ye, d'ye tink th' Black God'll le' me play wi' 'er, wh'n I d-die?" He asked me; I pulled him gently into a hug, stroking his dusty hair softly as he wrapped his arms around my neck and buried his filthy, tear-streaked face against my shoulder.

"Aye, lad," I murmured. "Th' Black God is th' Kindest, an' the mos' Merciful. He trea's little'uns th' kindes'. I tink 'e'd le' y'play wi' 'er agin, no doubt 'bout it, lad." He nodded, and clung tighter to me.

"W-when I ge' ta bein' twelve," he whispered. "I tink I may come 'ere, an', an' be one o' th' Novices."

"If ye wish it, ye'd be welcome, lad," I told him; he took a deep breath, and pulled back, wiping his face firmly and straightening up. I stood, and stroked a hand through his hair again, before opening the Cleansing Room door, and leaving him and his mother to grieve in peace.

After I sent little Siana to be cremated, and gave her mother a pretty clay vase to hold her ashes, I bought a handful of prayers and incense, and shared them with the Nettlebind family. Once I finished praying, for the dead I dealt with on Watch, the dead I'd cleaned today, and the Nettlebinds themselves, I put back my Cleansing charm and gathered Jinglenob. Our hoods and veils down, we walked home.

It's a honorable work, being a Priestess, a Friend, of the Black God. Hard, and hurtful, at times, but honorable. I regret nothing of my work there. Ever since I was a babe, and Papa would take me to the Temple with him and a few of my older siblings, while Mama worked with the rest of said siblings, I'd found peace and happiness there. I think it's one of the reasons for my self-made muteness, because there was something _awe inspiring_ about the serenity and solemn, soothing way of the Temple. Silence made it easier for the Black God to find you, for death is naught but the silencing of life.

Yet, despite all that, there's something to be said about the feeling of taking off the habit, and being just Kienta again. Mama and my siblings, they never bother me on Temple days. Instead, they let me work off the hurt, the energy, and bury my hands in dough and mix and selling to customers. Jinglenob found quick work in pulling a small wagon about filled with goods, while Tinsle and Siarana and their Rusher guard traveled about the Market and street with him, using their young Player abilities to gather customers and sell.

It's refreshing, to be standing behind the counter, and worry naught about Rats or murderers or the dead, and just about money and food. I made a point of checking the rare silver that came across our counter, but not many thought much of it. After all, most of our goods could be bought in coppers, with the rare copper noble, and silver, while wanted, wasn't often seen.

"Three cheese'n meat fritters, a raston, and four cinnamon pastries, Bails," a familiar voice ordered; I blinked up, gawping at Finch and Ferrows as the two stood there, smirking at me. They were dressed in clean tunics and breeches, dressed for comfort on their own day off. I stared a moment longer at my Dogs, blinking, before I cleared my throat and nodded.

"That'll be a copper noble an' three coppers, please," Jesebel informed them, tossing her beautiful red hair automatically, though it was held back in a bun. Flour smudged her freckled nose, and she grinned impishly up at my Dogs while I gathered their treats and settled them into a linen-lined basket. "And fer two more coppers, y'can keep the basket. Elsewise, y' gotta return it. They're all magic'd until they're bought, so no'un will _forget_ ta return 'em." Finch raised his eyebrow at me, and I just shrugged and smiled easily. Ferrows paid, absently scratching at the scar on his forehead, before the two of them wandered easily off to the side, obviously deciding they'd stay about, most probably to watch me.

"Them is Kienta's Dogs," Jorath said absently; I nodded and Jesebel shrugged. He gave my sister a confused look. "An' you charged 'em full price?" She smirked slightly, and I rolled my eyes.

"They's not Dogs _t'day_, now is they?" She asked, once again making the motion to toss her hair, before she stopped with an irritated huff.

Just then, Maggie and Fintel showed with the next cart of goods, there magic all a'glow and keeping the wonderful smelling haul warm. Quickly, Jorath and I moved to move the food into the building, while Jesebel manned the counter. Just as we were finishing, Siarana and Tinsle and their guard (today is was Kindle's friend Mylir Thrust, who worked for the Chief of Patten District, Gaves.) returned to refill their cart, Jinglenob panting away, happy as a pup playing fetch.

"Kienta, my love, my darling!" Mylir declared dramatically, moving to try and wrap an arm about my waist, even as I dodge with a playful wink. He was a handsome cove, with honey-brown hair and dark brown eyes and a lean body that spoke of speed and the sword on his hip. "It's so rare to see your beautiful face, when you're always so busy trying to bash in the nobs of my mates and me!"

"Mayhaps if your mates and you didn't play with the Rogue and that Chief of yours, you'd see her more often, Mylir," Jesebel called teasingly, while the Rusher gave a dramatic sigh and slumped dejectedly against the wall of our bakery, artfully showing off his muscles as his tunic tightened against his belly. I eyed him appreciatively as I placed baskets of food on the little sisters wagon and slipped Jinglenob half of a meat pie I'd been absently nibbling on. From Mylir's smirk, he knew I was looking, but come now, there's no trouble in _looking_.

Kindle would kill him, though, and I've no wish to hobble my Papa, or see him dancing on Executioner's Hill, so all I'd do was look.

"Move on, you lout," Jorath ordered the Rusher, pointing over as Jinglenob began to pull his loaded wagon off. Mylir winked at me and strutted off.

I enjoyed the view from behind, as well.

"Bad, bad Kienta," Jesebel teased, even as she eyed him appreciatively as well. I sent her a stern look. _I_ might look as I like, but Jesebel was _twelve_, and wasn't to be even _thinking_ about looking 'til she'd reached at least fifteen. Jesebel huffed, knowing my thoughts, and moved back into the kitchen as I replaced her behind the counter.

"Popular, ain't'cha, Bails?" Ferrows asked as he put their empty basket on the counter, munching on his raston while Finch carried their cinnamon pastries. I couldn't help but wink up at him with a wicked grin, and he laughed harshly, while Finch smirked.

"See you for Watch, Bails," the black-haired cove said, before he led his blond partner off.

"I heard they was bardashes t'gether," Jesebel murmured to me once they were well out of hearing. "But tha' they'd no mindin' of sharin' a mot between 'em, occasionally." I rolled my eyes, and made a firm gesture at her.

_It's no business of yours_. She huffed but got back to work.

It was a good day, with plenty of profit, and we returned home to Mama's with only two baskets of food as we swapped out with Nikolai, Oriver, and Cail for the Nightmarket handling. Mama had us set the left overs on the counter, to be sold for a single copper the next day. She handed me my linen bag of now-clean Player's garb, and I took Jinglenob home, and set down here to write this as the night grows dark. I will sleep now, as Jinglenob has already moved to do, and hope tomorrow has no truly nasty surprises awaiting me or my Dogs.

Black God bless and watch over us.

**A/N:** This chapter was harder to write than I thought it would be. It's easy to keep in character when you're just writing certain scenes from the actual book, just from anoter character's point of view, but just writing that character as is, in their own setting, and working with information that's not expounded on in the actual book? It's kinda difficult.

Anyways, please review!

_**VOCAB**_

Bardash - Male homosexual

Black God's Option - Suicide

Friend - Proper Title for all Priests and Priestesses (High and Not) of the Black God.

_**Black God's Temple**_

_In order from lowest echelon to highest_

**Novice** - Apprentice. Youngest age they're allowed to join is twelve, but can join at any age thereafter. Required to visit the Temple four times a week for two years. Sit through sermons and lessons with the High Priest or Priestess. Do chores around the Temple.

**Adept** - Journeyman. Required to visit the Temple twice a week for a year. They may observe only during Priestly duties (such as the Cleansing of the Dead), and are allowed to sell the Prayers, incenses, and prayer candles of the Temple. Also required to organize the Closet, and mentor the Novices.

**Priest(ess)** - Intermediary. Not required to visit weekly, but it's prefered. They are the ones who Cleanse the Dead, give comfort to the grieving, and provide advice to those who ask of the Black God and his Peaceful Realm.

**High Priest(ess)** - Master. To have become such, the Priest(ess) must have lived at the Temple for two years, and performed a pilgrimage to another country for a year. Most go to Carthak, and its large universities. Their jobs are to teach the Novices, mentor the Adepts, give the Priest(esse)s' their duties of the day, keep the Temple's moneys in order, visit the other Temples when needed, pray at the burials (especially for fallen Dogs and Nobles, along with the High Priest(ess) of Mirthos and the Goddess Temples), give prayers to those sentenced to Execution, give sermons, guard and watch over those who choose to follow the Black God's Option, and generally spread the word of the Black God.

In general, those who follow the Black God care for the Dead and Dying, and do not judge or mock others, while they wear their robes. They offer forgiveness, peace, serenity, and a quiet atmosphere in which the grieving find comfort, and the lost find a place to rest. Often the beggars and homeless can find a warm place to sleep and some food within the Black God's Temple, though it's rare that it is so, as it _is_ the _Death God's_ Temple, and many fear death.

Kienta is a **Priestess**, and Jinglenob is a **Novice**. Jinglenob is allowed to be so, despite not being human, because 1.) he's God Touched, and 2.) The Black God takes _all_ souls to the Peaceful Realms. Even animals. So, having an animal work within the Temple, while unusual, is acceptable.


	11. Puppy Problems: Day 8

**oOoOoOo**

_The Journal of_

_Kienta Bails_

_**Wednesday, April 8, 246**_

_Before My Watch_

I was the last to arrive at Beka's room this morning. Jinglenob decided that he'd be attending Temple for his second of four Novice Days there, and left me once he'd gotten his outfit on. Mama had given me a basket of cinnamon pastries and some of the berry pies that were in season, leaving me to carry two baskets while hoping no pies burst, as the stains would be neigh impossible to get out of my yellow Player dress.

"I missed breakfast these last two days," Rosto announced, once we were all settled on the cloth Beka had set out on the floor. "It's a nice start to things. Quiet-like." We all nodded, mouths full (I'd been surprised and pleased, when I'd arrived to find Rosto had brought pickled eggs. They were a strange treat I liked occasionally, though a little pricy for me to get too often.). It was true, though. These little get-togethers were soothing, to know we could meet with like-minded folk and relax, laughing and teasing and the like.

The lack of Jinglenob left me a little sad, but I was pleased he'd taken such a serious interest in being a Novice.

"Did they admire your bruises?" Verene asked Beka, meaning my friend's four younger siblings. "Did they want all the details of the fight? Because you ne'er told us. You were too giddy with the healin'." I glanced at my friend, my red mask setting on my forhead as I chewed on another pickled egg. I was mixing my colors this week.

"You had a lady knight," Aniki said, feeding a bit of sausage to Pounce. "Lady Sabine. A bunch of the bully boys who came by Dawull's court last night and the night before looked like they'd been mule-kicked. _They_ said her and a bunch of her friends who had just came back from the eats bailed you and your Dogs." Beka and I snorted at the same time, and nearly choked together too.

"It was just my lady on her own, and my Dogs, and me," she informed us tartly. "They _wished_ it had taken more than the four of us." She shifted bit self-consciously as Aniki lifted Pounce into the air. "Actually, mostly it was her and Tunstall and Goodwin. I did a bit, but they did the true damage."

"Don't go all modest," Ersken scolded mildly, as Aniki pressed a kiss to Pounce's head, a'fore the poor cat managed to escape and crawled into my lap to clean himself. I made sure I didn't drop crumbs on him, and began to eat a pie. "By rights, all of you should have been killed. My Dogs say someone ought to do the city a favor and burn the Barrel's Bottom down, there's so many fights there. The Night Watch calls it 'the Barrel of Blood'." Verene shifted, and I fed Pounce a corner of my pie, admiring his sleep black coat as he daintily took it from my fingers with a _mrt_ of thanks.

"_My_ Dogs say your Dogs allus do stupid things like that, to make the rest of us look bad," Verene said, before raising her hands defensively as Beka glared sharply at the Blue Harbor Puppy. "I'm just tellin' you what they said." I snorted.

"No, that's _my_ Dogs," I said blandly, and enjoyed the startled, amused looks I got from those not used to me occasionally speaking. Phelan threw his arm over Verene's shoulders and kissed her temple.

"Your Dogs are worthless scuts, sweeting," he informed her easily. "Don't listen when they talk scummer like that. Study good pairs, like Beka's Dogs. And _you_," he turned and sent a grin my way. "_You_ just pay attention to _living_, with those two pitbulls you've got as Dogs!" I grinned and stuck my tongue out at him, laughing softly out loud as I fed Pounce another corner of my pie.

"That bein' you and your partner?" Verene asked him sweetly, batting her eyes at him, and Phelan laughed.

"We aren't even nearly so good," he answered her; Rosto snorted.

"Why try, when it's such an uphill battle?" He asked, before yawning. "When you get in trouble in someplace like the Barrel's Bottom, and other Dogs take forever to come and lend a hand?" I could give him that. We'd all heard how long it had taken those Night Watch scuts to get to Beka's group the other day. Beka nudged Rostowith her foot.

"Why take the trouble to serve any of the Rogue's chiefs when they wont fight to move up at the Court?" She asked him back. "Because you're a rusher. Because we're Dogs."

"You speak of bein' a Dog like it's somethin' that's in the blood," Verene laughed. "I just didn't want t' fish!"

"It's in Beka's blood," Ersken said. "And I have to tell you, I get to meet more interesting people this way." I blinked over at my friends, and smiled.

_I just wanted work besides being a Player and a Priestess_, I signed, making Beka laugh softly at me while Pounce demanded I share the cheese I'd just picked up.

"And Beka will never change her mind?" Rosto asked while trying to hold Bekja's gaze. "Never, ever?" I thought it cute, his wanting to charm Beka. I wasn't sure if he was serious about it, though. More like, he's found a pretty mot that's interesting but not _interested_, and it's a challenge to him. Beka was looking at him mighty serious, now, though, and when she spoke, her voice was serious and steady.

"The only ones who fitly punished a cove who treated all my family like garbage was the Dogs, Rosto the Piper. Did you know folk have gone to the Rogue for justice when their children were kidnapped, and he's done nothing?" I stilled my fingers in the act of pulling more cheese from the chunk I had, and Pounce patiently waited until I'd gotten them moving again, to snatch his treat from my hand.

"Nor did the Dogs," Phelan remarked idly. "I'd've heard if we sought kidnappers in the Lower City." I took a slow, deep breath, to hold onto my temper. I _loath_ kidnappers and child-killers, may those that do such acts wander the earth after their deaths, lost and afraid, a _long_ while before my God grants them entrance to the Peaceful Realms!

"We're going to," Beka informed the two-year Dog. "That's what makes us different. We're outnumbered, and not all of us care. But eventually some of us will do what's right." I smiled at my friend, her ghost eyes blazing with the passion and determination she hadn't spoken with. I thought it was a bit naive, but that may just be my own opinion. Humans are faulty. We're not the Gods. We lust, we hate, we fear, we love, we pity, and we torment. We're inherently selfish creatures, with the occasional good deed.

Mayhaps I'm just a bit too jaded to see the good like Beka does.

I seem to save it all for the dead, children, and animals.

"That's sweet, Beka," Aniki said with a smirk; Rosto nodded.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he said; Verene yawned.

"Too serious," she complained lightly. "Let's feed the nasty birds a'fore they come in and swipe all our food." She pointed at Beka's open window, where her pigeon-visitors were all lined up, waiting. Pounce had left my lap to rub against Beka's side, so I stood with raston filling in my cupped hand as I ate the rest of it's original container. The pigeons coo'd and strutted and fluttered their feathers as they at the breadcrumbs. Beka joined me, and poured some corn out for them. Carefully, I knelt, so that my face was even with their perch, absently crossing my ankles behind me.

_Weary is the messenger, sent with bad news,_ I thought as I stared at them, the old prayer rising up in my memory.

_A warm meal, a soft touch, are what they crave._

_Forget all your troubles, the ones you've held upon your back, from others and yourself. _

_Let the pain and worry fade, for you are welcome within the Black Gods home, and the messages you carry shall be received with grace._

The pigeons all quieted, all stilled, and turned to look at me as I continued to murmur the prayer to them.

_Frightened is the lost one, who did horrible deeds in life. _

_Harsh punishment, the pain of revenge, and the sharp slice of rejection, are what they expect upon their arrival._

_Do not fear rejection, nor worry of revenge._

_There is no strife held within the Black Gods home, and you are found again._

"I've heard sommat-mentioned it to Ersken, but you all need to know. It's important," Beka's voice said from beside me; she had turned to face our friends. Pounce sat beside her, but his purple eyes were locked on me.

_Angry is the betrayed one, who trusted wrong, unknowing,_ I continued, listening to my friend with half an ear as she continued.

"Rolond Lofts, Crookshank's great-grandson, that was kidnapped and killed? He was taken by someone calling himself the Shadow Snake." Phelan snorted.

_Want of vengeance and justice lies in their heart, edged with the pain of broken hearts._

"I've seen proof, all right?" Beka snapped. "And there's more. Fold in the Lower City have lost children to the Snake for years-and sometimes got them back. Near three dozen families, mayhap more."

_Lay down you sword, and rest your broken heart._

_The Black God loves you, and you'll find healing within his home, and forgiveness within peace._

"The Snake takes the little one and leaves orders to pay up sommat of value or the child dies," Beka continued; my eyes remained locked with the silent pidgeons. Pounce continued to stare. "They get a week. Them as pays gets their little one back. Them as don't... Either they see the body, or they never see their little one again. Ever."

_Confused is the unlucky, who came by way of accident._

_Questions and worries line their way, with hopeful begging to be returned._

"Up 'til now it was the poor folk, them who couldn't bribe the Dogs or the Rogue. But Crookshanks-the Snake found out Crookshank has something that would make the Snake really, really rich."

_Silence your questions, and lay down your begging, for all will be answered in time._

_The Black God is patient, and you need not worry about those who have yet to join you in his home, for they shall come in their own time._

"Will you ask about?" Beka asked hopefully. "Find out who fell victim to this piece of pig scummer? Mayhap someone knows sommat, or saw someone. Even if we only know who lost a child, or what the Snake wanted-any knowledge is better then none. I can pass it on to my Dogs... Or to my Lord Provost. Either way, if we hobble the Shadow Snake, whether we're Dogs or crooked, folk will think well of us for it."

_Relieved is the broken one, who carried a life too heavy._

_A home is what they seek, and rest to forget their troubles._

"I'll do it," Kora's voice declared with a hard edge of intensity. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"You know we'd help just for your sake, love," Rosto reassured her, voice quiet and tender.

"We have our reasons," Aniki added seriously. "Beyond ambition, that is. We'll keep our ears open.

_Do not worry, for a home awaits you, where no fear or sorrow or pain can touch you, and only rest and peace reside._

_The Black God heals all of life's injuries, of the heart and not, and you are welcomed home._

"Pox, Beka," Phelan said, sounding uncertain and a bit ashamed. "I just thought it was wild stories. You have proof?"

"My Dogs have proof." Beka replied seriously.

"I'll remember where I heard those tales," he said grimly. "I'm sorry. I thought... Nevermind."

_Happy is the Child, returned home at last._

_They worry for their family, but are too joyful for it to grab hold of them._

"You already told me about the Snake," Ersken said easily. "Of course I'll listen and ask.

"When we catch this Snake, I'll make me a belt of his hide," Verene hissed, much like a snake herself, in her rage. "Child killers-it's sad the Black God shows mercy. They deserve none."

_Worry not, sweet child, for you have a place to play safely now._

_The Black God cherishes you who lived shortest best, though your rest with him is never long, you are always loved and welcomed to play within the Peaceful Realms._

"Kienta?" Beka asked, voice edged with nervousness; Pounce meowed at her, and I lifted a finger towards her, asking for a moment.

_Welcomed are All, those who believed so and not._

_They come with their worries, their fears and pain._

_Weep not, dear spirits, nor cry or worry._

_You are safe in the Black Gods hands, and his messengers will lead you safely here._

_The Black God is kindness, mercy, and love, and all are welcomed, be they man, woman, child, or beast._

_May you find true rest within his arms._

_Amen._

The pigeons all bowed their heads, and flew away as one. Pounce bowed his head towards me, and I bowed mine back in reply.

_You do that very well_, a male voice, light an calm, spoke, and I blinked at Pounce, holding his eyes.

_Thank you,_ I responded, before I rose to my feet, leaning over to Beka and placing a light kiss on her cheek.

"I have fourteen little siblings to watch over," I reminded her gently, ignoring Rosto and Phelan's sputters of horror, and Kora and Aniki's wincing expression and surprise. "Mama and Papa have never had too much, and we all pitch in and protect one another. Even if you had no proof, and no allies, I would have made sure to hunt even a rumor of such a thing." I smiled sweetly at her. "Black God smile upon us, and take this Snake into his Realm before we make his life more painful."

Beka sighed with relief, and I gave her cheek a second kiss, and glanced out the still-open window at the sun, before pulling down my mask.

"Work calls," I told them, and bid my farewells.

It was a good day to Play, and I've Birdies to place feed before.

Black God bless us all, and guide our hunting straight.

_After My Watch_

Finch and Ferrows were in a strange mood this eve. They were struttin' about as we walked the Cesspool, all but humming cheerfully as they moved, swinging their batons from the strap while they eyed the mumpers and such that passed us by. Jinglenob seemed tired as he padded at my side, but their mood perked him up well enough, getting his tail to wag as we move about.

I wasn't sure what was about with my Dogs, and it made me awful twitchy.

"Steady, Bails," Finch drawled, even as he reached out and boxed a young cove's ear a'fore the lad could grab a distracted mot's purse. The lad scowled, and gave my Dogs the stink-eye, before he disappeared off into an alley. "Attention unpaid is a grave that's made, Puppy." I nodded and began to keep a sterner eye on our surroundings.

The night was strange, with my Dogs being so cheerful. The seven brawls we got in (though one was more of a fist-fight between three coves then anything else) were dealt with bright grins and hard batons, and unnerving laughter and joking afterward. I caught a would-be rapist on my own when the lad tried to run and I hit him hard in the stomach when he tried to dart past me, and Ferrows _praised me_.

I think they've been playing with hotblood wine or sommat a'fore Watch, and it is mighty unnerving.

"Come on, Bails!" Finch ordered cheerfully as we moved toward what was supposed to be an illegal slave auction. "You go around the back way, Pup," he ordered, as him and Ferrows joined the two other Dogs they'd take the room with (the Dogs were Jarvem and Sandall, who looked much recovered after her weak-belly with that alley mot). I saluted and lead Jinglenob carefully around the back, and placed him on one-side of the door while I took the other.

"In the King's Name!" I heard, muffled by the heavy door, and silently pulled out my baton, sap going into my free hand and muscles tensing. I didn't have long to wait, as a cove dressed like a merchant (mayhaps he even _was_ a merchant) ducked out my door, arms curled around a dull silver box.

"In the King's Name," I intoned coldly, making him yelp and whirl around, before I set my baton against his throat and Jinglenob snarled behind him, making him freeze and go whiter then Barzun cream.

"I'll give you five Gold Nobles if you let me go, Guardswoman," he said, and I paused, eying him consideringly. Hand shaking, he yanked a moneypouch from about his neck and offered it to me. Keeping an eye on him, I carefully worked the pouch open and glanced in. Gold glittered, five pieces, with a few coppers at the bottom. I hummed, tilted my head, then nodded, before I shoved the pouch down my shirt and hobbled him anyways, smiling sweetly as I did so as he struggled and curse at me.

"I've fourteen younger siblings and more on the way, sir," I informed him simply, and, while he still glowered and cursed me, some of the heat went out of it. Pity I hated slavers more'n most. I set him against the wall gently, and told him he could stay quiet or I'd use one of his fancy handkerchiefs to gag him. He stayed quiet, though he yelped and tried to scramble away when a huge cove, with slaver tattoos decorating his entire bald head, staggered through the door, bloody and bruised, until I neatly smashed my baton into the hinge of his jaw sending him to the ground with a nicely done nap-tap.

"Y'still alive, Bails?" Ferrows asked as he poked his head through the door. I smiled sweetly from where I was hobbling my new prisoner, and my Dog laughed. "Good Puppy!" he praised, before he disappeared back into the brawl. I shook my head and sent Jinglenob a confused look, but my silly brute just lolled his tongue about and grinned like his namesake. I snorted, and rolled the slaver off towards the merchant, who scooted a bit away, as best he could with his wrists and ankles hobbled. As we waited, and no more tried to leave through my door, I offered the merchant a drink from my water pouch, which he accepted, bad feelings betwix us being pushed aside in favor of rinsing his mouth of the taste of dried scummer.

Finch came about a few minutes later, to help me haul my dazed and dozy slaver while the merchant shuffled behind us. After we had handed the two of them off to the Cage Dogs, we headed towards a tavern named Hawk's Roost, a rusher den.

"Oi, Bails," Finch suddenly said, making us stop suddenly as he turned to me. "Did that scut try and bribe you?" He demanded; I blinked, and then remembered that, as my Dog's, the two of them would get a big bit of my bribes. I nodded at him, and reached between my peaches to pull out the fancy coin-purse, earning a smirk from Ferrows even as Finch plucked my prize from my hand, and dumped it in his palm. The two of them whistled at the bright gold nobles, pushed the three coppers off to the side.

"Ya do know tha' a third o' bribes over a silver noble go to th' Happy Bag, right, Bails?" Ferrows asked; I blinked, and then shrugged, mentally doing the calculations, like Kindle taught us.

Five gold nobles, minus a third, would mean that one gold noble, six silver nobles, and two copper nobles would go into the Happy Bag. Finch and Ferrows would each get a third of what was left, as my trainers. That would mean that they each got a gold noble, a silver noble, two copper nobles, and eight coppers. I'd get the same, but only seven coppers.

It was a very large sum for a Puppy Bribe, and I was pleased with it, accepting the purse back.

"We'll log and sort it out at muster," Finch told me, as I returned the purse between my peaches. "I'm starved, come on," he announced, and we continued on. The Hawk's Roost had horse meat pies, cheese melted over potatoes, and rolls that were only a bit dry. They were even happy to give Jinglenob the scraps from the pies, for two coppers. We ate happily, and didn't bother one another, too busy enjoy a hot meal after the slight chill of the night.

A lull occurred once the food was done, and the three of us relaxed a bit, leaning back in our seats, while Jinglenob was attempting to flirt some more meat from the bar maids and cooks. Finch and Ferrows began to talk with the age-old comfort of those who've worked together for years, and I just settled back, and listened as they talked about some Rat or another they'd had to catch. They ignored me for the most part, occasionally throwing a smirk and a mocking word or so my way, but, all together, it was peaceful-like.

We were still relaxed when we made our way back out to the streets, my Dogs snickering over some idiot they'd had to deal with, while I just smiled slightly, watching them as I walked at their heels like the good Puppy I was.

The whistle for a murder cut through the cozy atmosphere, though, and, with sudden dread, I looked up at my Dogs, who'd stopped at the first high-pitched cry, there relaxed shoulders tensing and good moods plummeting.

"That'll be fer us, then," Ferrows muttered, and spat to the side. Quickly, they led the way through two allies and over a fence, before we found the source of the alarm.

Another mot lay in pieces, just as the other two had, body parts cut apart and lying nearby. Pretty blue eyes and blond hair, wearing her best blue dress and slippers. The Dogs that had found her (a pair of fresh transfers from Flash District, whose names I'd yet to memorize) were grimly guarding the alley, while a shell-shocked looking cove shuddered and tried to catch his breath, having lost his dinner all over the ground, no doubt he was the one to find her.

I'm not sure who was more surprised, me or my Dogs, when I found myself speaking.

The curse that fell from my mouth was one that would have gotten my hide tanned by both Mama _and _Papa, and a mouthful of soap. Jinglenob sighed quietly at my side, exasperated with me, and I've never seen a cove's head spin as fast as my Dogs nobs did, staring at me with such stunned looks that, in any other place, I would have grinned.

But here, I kept my eyes on the dead mot, and gritted my teeth.

"Bails?" Finch hissed, but I shook my head, and made the common gesture for _later_. My Dogs looked at each other, and held a silent conversation. Then, they nodded, and we turned to deal with the mot.

Socks was once more the scent hound to come along, and, once more, we found our Rat's steps magic'd. Her partners take her off, and the Flash kennel Transfers gather a tarp, send for a Black God's Carriage, and question the poor cove who'd found her, without being told by my Dogs to do so.

We've luck on our side tonight, however, because, while moving the poor mot's body onto the tarp, I found a bit of fancy hidden in her hand, ripped off of the sleeve of what felt like an expensive tunic. The embroideries that lined it were beautiful, for all that the mot's blood stained the green cloth. I whistled at my Dogs, and held my find up for them.

"We'll 'ave ta set up sommat with Fulk," Ferrows said reluctantly, grimacing. "See if 'e can find th' magic our ally-cat used ta 'ide 'imself." He spat onto the wall, avoiding disrespecting our dead mot by spitting on the ground she'd bleed upon. I nodded, and handed it obediently to Finch when he gestured at it.

When the Carriage rolled away, after I'd signed my prayers and nodded the lad driving it off, my Dogs caged me in on either side, too close for comfort, and eyed me darkly as we began to walk towards the Kennel for mustering out.

"You can talk," Finch finally said; I shrugged, but nodded. "Then why play mute, puttock?" He snapped; I sighed and reached up to tug my hair, ignoring the blood and scummer that got into it, trying to decide how to explain it.

Finally, I decided on a half-truth, and nodded to myself.

"I am a Priestess of the Black God," I murmured quietly. "My silence is so I can better do His will. So saying, however, I have fourteen mouths to help feed, not including myself and Jinglenob. There's sommat to be said about a Player's life, and that is that the coin is good, if you work hard enough. Bein' a Dog is my main job. Everything else is just a bit of fun, to gain me extra coin, an' help my Mama out." I flicked my hand, like I was dusting sommat off, and blinked when Finch grabbed my shoulder.

The slap took me by surprise, leaving my cheek stinging and turning my head, but it t'wasn't as hard as he would have done, a'fore I started to grow on him.

"If you _ever_ keep sommat like this from us again, _Puppy_," Finch hissed, black eyes blazing as he leaned in close, the smell of the ale he'd had with dinner still faint on his breath. Ferrows hands dug into my upper arms, holding me neatly in place, even while Jinglenob growled warningly at the both of them, ignored. "I will _personally_ beat you into the Goddesses Temple, and then Ferrows will put you right back." There was a viciousness in his eyes I'd seen in some of Kindles friends, when they were thirsting for a fight, blood singing in their veins, and I knew the Finch would do it to. I was no comrade of these Dogs, just their Puppy and, for this year, the two of them _owned_ me.

They would beat me, if I stepped out of line, and they would no more regret it then they regret cracking nobs in a brawl.

"Do ye understand, _Puppy_?" Ferrows hissed from behind me, and I knew I'd have his fingerprints as bruises on my arms.

"Aye, sirs," I replied quietly, and I did.

The collar on my neck is tightened, and my leash lays in their hands.

"Good," Finch said, straightening; Ferrows released my arms, and I resisted the urge to rub them, My Dogs turned me around, and led the way to the Kennel, keeping me at a strict heel the entire walk.

We rationed out our parts of my five gold noble bribe, and parted ways after muster. I washed in a public bathhouse for the first time since I began my Puppy Year, without my Dogs to keep others from bothering me (though Jinglenob did that job this night, when a few coves looked at me longer than what spoke of good things).

Now, as I sit here and write, feeling the dull, deep ache of the bruises on my arms, I can't help but wonder why those two are Dogs at all...

And why I felt so guilty for keeping sommat like this from them at all.

Mayhaps I should just put such worries away for now. I will stop writing of my night here, and go pray for this night's victim, and for guidance on how to deal with pitbulls like my Dogs.

Black God bless.

**A/N:** There, a bit of bi-polar/OOC Finch & Ferrows at the beginning, and then they're back to their asshole-ish ways ^-^ Enjoy!

**VOCAB**

**Copper** - Cheapest coin

**Copper Noble** - 10 Coppers

**Silver Noble** - 10 Copper Nobles, 100 Coppers

**Gold Noble** - 10 Silver Nobles, 100 Copper Nobles, 1000 Coppers


	12. Puppy Problems: Day 9

**A/N:** Thanks for all the feedback, everyone!

_The Journal of_

_Kienta Bails_

_**Thursday, April 9, 246**_

_Before My Watch_

Jinglenob once more chose to go to Temple rather than join me at Beka's this morn. It left me feeling a bit sorry for myself, like the bruises that still ached on my arms that I hadn't had the heart to place Mama's special cream on, but I could handle a bit of self-pity well enough. I passed on Beka's hunt for information to Mama, and she promised to tell my siblings and Kindle, kissing me on the cheek and giving me a basket filled with meat pies, cheese fritters, and a large jar of baked dough balls dusted in cinnamon and sugar that she would start selling today. She also gave me a jug of hot cider, before sending me off to my breakfast get-together with a kiss on the cheek and a smile.

I arrived at Beka's apartment in time to watch her open the shutters, and a few of her more regular pigeons to fly into the room. Smiling, I set my basket and jug down on the cloth on the floor, grabbing a fritter as I did so, and joined her there, splitting my fritter with her as we watched them eat. From Beka's lack of sharp interest in them, I doubted they had ought new to say.

Verene and Phelan finally arrived, holding hands, and I sent the two of them a grin and waggled my brows, my green mask resting over them on my forehead, clashing nicely with my orange dress. They'd brought with them a couple of hot fritters, and Ersken, who came up not long after, had brought half a ham and a cheese tart. Rosto brought with him more twisley and some raspberry jam, as well as a bag of cracked corn for Beka's feathered friends. With my own basket of food (and, truly, Mama needed to stop sending so much, while demanding I not pay for it. She'd begger herself, if she weren't more careful.), Korra's jar of pears picked with currants and almonds, and Aniki bringing the cheese and bread loaf halves from the day before, we had a verifiable feast before us. Rosto stayed only long enough to drop off his part, and accept the meat pie and cheese fritter I'd all but forced into his hands, before running off to do some errands.

This morn seemed to be the day for early leavings, too, for the others all scattered off after they'd eaten a bit, and I found myself leaving Beka and Kora on their own to discuss some information the pretty mage had found on the Snake. I ended up having to bring a good amount of pies and fritters with me, and a few handfuls of the cinnamon balls left. I left Beka the jar, and carried my basket of treats with me towards Patten District. I'd gotten word from one of my Player friends that there was a manager in Patten named Ahmer Levens, who was willing to house me while I Played from ten 'til two. He was an easy-going cove, my friend said, so I'd see how he was as an employer when I got there.

I found the place easy, as it claimed one of those dead-end streets that ended in a large turn-about, with a good dozen stalls and platforms for Players, and a large building behind it for the Doxies and Spintries to have for customers.

"Wintry Rose?" A voice asked; I turned and took in the cove standing a bit of ways to my right. He was a handsome fellow, with ruddy blond hair and sharp features. A knife scar cut down one of his cheeks, ane a black tattoo of what looked like a snarling dog's face took up one side of his neck. His eyes were a pale green-gray, and rather pretty.

"Master Levens?" I asked cautiously, settling my basket of treats on my hip; the cove grinned at me, and a dimple flashed in his left cheek.

"Aye, that would be me," he replied, giving me a playful bow, which I returned with a one-handed curtsy.

"I was told I could find work here?" I said cautiously; Levens nodded, and gestured over towards one of the platforms, and started that way. I stayed close, winding neatly through the small crowd of people come to gawk and enjoy the shows and treats being sold.

"If you decide to work for me," He started explaining easily, "then I get one fourth of your coins. I've a lad watching each platform, to keep trouble away, and make sure no one runs off with all the coins or tries to cheat me." He pointed, and I found myself looking at a large rusher who had his eyes on the coin bowl on the end of the Player's platform, watching it like a proper four-legged guard dog, while cutting slices from an apple to munch on.

"Smart," I commented, feeling pleased. I wouldn't be able to rook this cove, like I had with Faraway, but the fact he was clever enough to have watchers on the coin spoke well of him anyways. He flashed a grin my way again, and led me on.

"You'll be working a different platform every two hours, and have a few breaks throughout. If you've any ability with foods, you're welcome to spend your breaks in a stall. I won't take any cuts from food business, but all the guards, the other players, and I will get half-off whatever you sell."

"I've experience baking," I informed him simply. "As are my siblings, if they show up to watch me play or sommat, mayhaps they could lend a hand." T'was always a good idea, to ask such. One never knew when extra hands were needed, and the extra coin would be welcome. Levens shrugged, easily.

"As long as they sign their name and goods up, and let me know which stall they'll be working, that'll be fine," he replied simply. "Though I don't let any gixies or lads under ten work," he warned firmly. "I'll not have the risk of them getting snatched for the slave yards while they work for me." I nodded agreeably to this. This cove was playing safe and smart, and I was pleased thus far with what I was hearing.

"I think we have an agreement, Master Levens," I decided finally; he grinned at me, and offered his hand.

"Excellent," he said, and his grin slid into a smarmy smirk. "It's always a pleasure, working with such pretty mots." I grinned and gave him a wink, and he chuckled, squeezing my hand, before letting it go. "Now, you'll work from Wednesday through Sunday, from ten of the morning to two of the afternoon, right?"

"Right," I agreed with a nod.

"Today we've the contract to work out, so you'll not be working today, less you're going to sell what you've got there," he nodded at my basket, and then paused. "You _can_ read and write, yes?" he asked cautious; I nodded, and then shrugged.

"I can read and write just fine, and mayhaps I will be selling these treats. I'll have to wait and see." He shrugged easily, and led me off to fill out paperwork, mainly a magic'd contract that stated that I would work for Master Levens for the agreed days for six months at least, before I could leave his employment.

During those six months, the fourth of my earnings he'd be getting, would go to paying for my piece of the Players Lot, which amounted to about fifteen gold nobles. Should I wish to leave it sooner, I'd owe him a hefty amount of money, and I'd not be able to work for him again for two years. After the six months, the fourth of my coin would go into his pocket. If I missed work due to injuries or illness, I'd have to pay the difference from my earnings until I'd paid off the debt. I was allowed to miss days only for the sake of emergencies (such as if I had to give birth, or was needed for back-up for my Dog work), and for funerals. All other missed days would have to be approved by Master Levens and re-paid as needed.

T'was a mighty fine contract, and smart as well.

By the time I left to go back to my Mama's, I'd sold off all the left over treats I'd had, and made myself a good few coins for her. Jinglenob awaited me on her doorstep, panting away happily as he did so, and I led him home so I could dress in uniform, and go to training.

Now, I finish this, while eating a stick of roasted horse meat I'd bought on the way home.

I'm off to training now, though.

Black God smile upon my friends and I as we work!

_After My Watch_

"Finch, Ferrows," Ahuda called before we went out on Watch, and my Dogs grimaced harshly. "Fulk will see you now." Now _I_ grimaced, and, as we made our way toward the on-duty mage's office, I moved consciously closer to my Dogs, who sent me hard looks but allowed it.

If the sarden mage lays an un-gentlemanly hand on me, I'll send Jinglenob after him, I swear it.

We entered the office, and found Fulk perched at his desk in such a way to guarantee he was head and shoulders over any who came in, which had my Dogs eyes narrowing as I purposefully turned to the side to make it look like I was admiring one of the bits of fancy that decorated the walls.

Fulk's a greasy cove, with his brown and gray hair oily, his whiskers rough and unshaved, and his too-full, wet green eyes over brown stains, like he'd slept only a few hours a week. He smelled of stale sweat and the storm-smell of magic, and made me tense and unhappy, just looking at him.

As long as he kept his pinching, groping fambles to hisself, I can ignore him, though.

"Well? Where is it?" He snapped, his voice strident and whiney. "I haven't all night!" I turned reluctantly to face him, as Finch handed him the fancy tunic cloth I'd found yestereve. Fulk sneered at it, before he focused on it. Crimson light gleamed from his fingers, and the cloth glowed an odd plum color. Jinglenob sneezed, and Fulk's magic faltered, disappearing.

"As I thought," he declared, sending a nasty look at my brute, who bared his teeth in a yawn. "Spelled for concealment and scent-hiding." He tossed the cloth at Ferrows, who caught it with half-lidded, threatening eyes. "You won't have much luck finding the owner, as long as he's got a mage doing such work for him. Now, get out," he ordered, sneering. "Haven't you got collecting to do?" My Dogs sneered at him, and stalked past me. As I turned to follow, something locked around my wrist and tugged me back a step, making me stumble a bit. I stiffened, and slowly turned my head around, hair falling into my face. Fulk's crimson magic was coiled about my wrist, leaving an oily feeling about it as he came around his desk and replaced the magic with his own hand. It didn't help the feeling at all. He rubbed his thumb lightly against my pulse, leering at me.

"Perhaps _you_ could run a bit of an errand for me, trainee," he suggested; my eye twitched, and, from the corner of my eye, I saw my Dogs tense and tall, glaring darkly from the doorway, with a deeply growling Jinglenob held back by his scruff. Taking a slow, careful breath, I turned to Fulk, and tilted my head in a questioning way, desperately praying for self-restraint. Killing or maiming the Kennel Mage was _expensive_, and I've no wish to deal with the charges myself. Mayhaps if _Jinglenob_ did it, then the injuries would be excused, as all know how protective fighting dogs are, but, should I injure him _myself_, I'd likely be punished, and mayhaps suspended from duty for a bit.

"Fulk," Finch said, voice hard and chilled worse then I'd yet to hear. "You'd best be takin' your paws from our Pup. We're just gettin' her trained properly." Fulk leered at the 'trained' part, and rubbed my arm again.

"I need someone to run an errand for me," he told my Dogs easily. "Your _pup_ seems smart enough to do well for the job." I felt my lips pull back from my teeth in sommat that was _not_ a smile, and leaned close to him, hearing his breath speed up and watching his wet eyes gleam in interest.

"If y' dinna move yer famble from me this minnut," I hissed lowly, Cesspool cant thick and heavy with my restrained temper. "I'll be sendin' me Da an' four older brothers yer way some dark night, Master Fulk." I leaned even closer, ignoring the smell of his foul breath, watching his eyes widen a bit. "An' then _I'll_ be filin' a report on ye, with the Goddess's Magistrate, an' _then_ ye can deal wi' the Goddes's Warriors, sickles an' all." He released me, taking a quick step back.

"You _dare_ threaten a mage?" He shrieked, like a scalded babe, and I straightened and glared at him harshly.

"Ye _dare_ harass a Priestess of the Black God?" I snapped back; what little color he'd raised in his indignation fled his grubby face, and I sneered at him, before turning and stalking back to my Dogs, bobbing my head at them as they stepped to the side to let me through first.

"You won't get away with it, _trainee_!" Fulk screeched after me, no doubt feeling better with my distance from him; Ahuda glanced over, as did those who'd come to visit their Rats in the cages. Coves and mots leaned about, trying to see what he was screeching about. Jinglenob appeared at my side, as Finch and Ferrows moved after me with dark glowers sent towards the office. "I'll be filing a complaint!" Fulk screeched, before the door slammed shut, and I snorted and resisted the urge to spit. Ferrows did it for me, before the two stalked ahead of me. Finch patted me briefly on the shoulder before I was in my proper heel position, and we started out.

"If you permanently injured him, it'll be on you," Ahuda warned halfheartedly; Finch snorted.

"He's not injured at all," he informed her. "Just a bit rattled." Ferrows bared his teeth.

"'E tried ta play wi' our Pup," he told her smugly. "An' 'e found she's got a bite." Ahuda sent me a look, and nodded approvingly.

"Go and collect your bags, now," she ordered; my Dogs saluted, and we headed for the Cesspool, to collect what we could from the small shops and such there, for the Happy Bag.

"Good Puppy," Finch told me, once we'd left the Kennel, and I felt some of the uncertainty I'd been holding since yestereve leaving me, pleased that my Dog's weren't too angry with me. Jinglenob leaned against my leg, grinning like his namesake, and I smiled down at him as I followed my Dogs.

Fulk's idiocy was the brightest bit in the night, unfortunately. Not many fights or brawls on this Happy Bag night, we found. We stopped a few burglaries, an argument between a mot and her man, and had to stop a man from taking the Black Gods Option by jumping from his roof. My Dogs had to wrestle him down, and I pulled him aside before we'd let him go, to tell him that, if he really wished to go to the Peaceful Realms, t'was better to do it in the Temple, were he'd have peace and quiet to do so, and his family or some other poor mot or cove, wouldn't have to deal with moving his skull-broken body off to the Temple anyways.

We ate at the Hawk's Roost again, enjoying the hot ham, roasted greens, and honey-drizzled bread. We even got a bit of dessert, in the form of a mixed-berry pie with cream and honey on it. We stayed for a bit, and I played a game of cups with a couple of coves who knew Kindle, before we were off again, and managed to break up a small tavern fight, by just tossing the scuts out into the garbage.

No whistles went out, speaking of a murder. I've no notion if it was because there hadn't been one, or because none had found the poor mot yet.

I hopes we found the killed soon, though. Ahuda had told the Watch that it was our investigation, but to keep there noses to the ground.

We could only wait, and hope, and hunt.

Black God bless and watch over us.

**A/N:** There you go. I kinda feel like I messed up on Fulk? I dunno, feedback on that, at least, please?

Thanks.

**VOCAB**

Fambles - hands

Game of Cups - (_I made this up, it's mine, mwahaha_) A gambling game where each player has three cups, and in each cup is a card, face down so the owner can't see it. Each player has a coin, and has to flip it into a cup the player to their right has. That cup must be flipped over, the coin returned to its owner, and another cup done the same way. Whichever cup is left standing, has the card the player must play. Bets are placed, and then the cars in the last cup are laid, face up. The player with the highest card wins. (Can be used as a drinking game, with the bets being an amount of alcohol the winner must drink)


	13. Puppy Problems: Day 10-12

**A/N:** Here you go! (I'M, LIKE, HALF-WAY DONE WITH THIS FIC NOW! WHOOT!)

_The Journal of _

_Kienta Bails_

_**Friday, April 10, 246**_

_Before My Watch_

I was woken up this morning to Jinglenob growling and a knock at the door, to go along with the rumble of thunder in the air, of the spring storm that had apparently rolled in. I opened the door without bothering to dress, too tired to think much of it, and earned myself a bright blush from the young lad standing in the doorway.

"M-Master Levens sends word th-that they'll be no Playin' this morn, Miss," the lad stuttered, and I smiled at him, gesturing him to wait a moment, before I grabbed him two coppers and a day-old cinnamon pastry to pay for his having to run through the rain.

"Thank ye, Miss," he managed, face still red as a gillyflower, a'fore he darted away.I closed the door before I let myself laugh. No reason to embarrass the poor lad further, after all.

I take a moment to write this down, and take Jinglenob out to do his business, a'fore the both of us are going to go back to my bed.

Tis a day for sleeping in.

_After My Watch_

The rain continued throughout the day, and kept the worse of the troublemakers indoors and quiet. Twas a boring night, with only a few bugleries and a fight over a place beneath an awning to keep us awake. My Dogs are mighty displeased, as am I.

We ate at the Barrel's Bottom, and then mustered out. I'm more pleased then ever, that my lodgings are just down the road from the kennel.

Mayhaps tomorrow will be more interesting.

_**Saturday, April 11, 246**_

_Before My Watch_

Poor Beka has a cold, and the rain continues on. Master Levens has canceled Playing until the rain has stopped, as no one wishes to stand about in it. I've decided to spend the mornings with Mama, and poor Jinglenob went to Temple today, and came back soaked through and sneezing himself. He'll stay home with my Mama during Watch.

I hope this storm ends soon.

_After My Watch_

Mama sent me off with three jacks of scalding hot cider, to keep my Dogs and I warm in the rains. They seem mighty pleased with it, even though we've got Nightmarket to patrol tonight. They make a point of stopping at my Mama's building there, and buying the three of us hot honey cakes, while telling Maggie and Fintel to thank Mama for us.

We did naught but stop some pickpockets and sutlers this night.

I'm beginning to hate the rain.

_**Sunday, April 12, 246**_

_Before My Watch_

Jinglenob and I spent the night at my Mama's, and woke this morning to no rain, but a wet chill in the air. We stayed there and helped a bit (or, I helped, and Jinglenob licked ruined batter from my siblings faces as they giggled and shrieked with glee). I left Mama's with three names for Beka's Snake Hunt, and went to her home to drop them off a'fore going to Play.

One gixie, age five, taken from Newts Eye Avenue on October 17, 244. Price: a jewelry box decorated with real silver and gold, lined in purple velvet, gained from a great-aunt's death. Price unpaid. Gixie never seen again.

One cove, age seven, taken from Gallows Street on January 2, 245. Price: expensive crystal perfume set from the Copper Isles. Price paid. Cove found at the Trickster shrine where ransom paid, next day.

One gixie, age five, taken from Dancers Way on July 29, 245. Price: gold necklace with a sapphire teardrop. Price unpaid. Gixie found dead in garden next morning. Brother, age seven, taken one week later. Price paid. Found on steps to the Wavewalker's Temple two days later.

May this Snake get skin-rot, and his gems be cut away. May he lose his eyes, his tongue, and his hands, and may he live long in agony, fear, and shame, until my God takes him.

Master Levens makes no mention that my Playing is sharp, nor that the songs I choose aren't all light-hearted. Mayhaps he blames it on the curst weather, it matters not.

I make some coin making sweetcakes and honey-rolls. Kneading the dough is relaxing, and I leave feeling weak-muscled and relieved.

Black God take the Shadow Snake.

_After My Watch_

The storm returned with vengeance, making it nigh impossible for the fleets to come in, leaving many a cove and mot without jobs. Beka's got a second scent, her and her Dogs. Crookshank's hiring diggers and dousing them all together in pockets. There are mayhaps more hired and getting ready to die even now, and it makes her more miserable then the cold that's clinging to her. My Dogs agree to keep their noses to the ground, even while we hunt for our Alley-Cat. Mayhaps luck will sing for us.

My Dogs and I take the Cesspool, and it is miserable. Tis slippery with slum stew all about, and I slipped thrice while chasing a few thieves. My Dogs slipped twice each, and we were irritable as we stopped at the Barrel's Bottom for a meal. We got hot stew, fresh rolls, and a bowl of hot berry cobbler as desert.

My Dogs dragged me to the Dog Baths to soak, and the hot water relaxed my tense muscles and chased the chill from my bones.

I pray I don't fall ill like poor Beka.

I'll not look forward to waking for tomorrows Court Day. I am only pleased I'll not have to report, as there's no Rat who was mine and mine alone, outside of my Dogs view. Even that merchant briber won't be covered by me, as my Dogs'll take him.

I will sleep now, as Jinglenob is. My bed looks comfortable and warm.

Black God bless.

**A/N:** Following the three days in the book were Beka was mostly just complaining about her cold and how miserable she was, I though I'd toss in a bit more and such.

Yay~

**VOCAB**

Slum Stew - Liquid garbage

Sutler - Shoplifter


	14. Puppy Problems: Day 14

**A/N:** Wheeeeeeee!

_The Journal of_

_Kienta Bails_

_**Tuesday, April 14, 246**_

_At Days End_

I once more woke at four of the morning, and dressed in plain breeches and tunic, before taking Jinglenob with me to Mama's house for our Temple garb.

I spent the morning cleaning the dead once more, and even helping with the Novices and Adepts for an hour when High Priestess Stonuels had to leave, an hour before High Priest Locks would arrive to replace her, to oversee a funeral for a Dog in Highfeilds. The spring storm, which had finally finished yesterday morn, had brought to the Temple a good dozen of those who died from the cold and wet, from slipping on the cobblestones and cracking their skulls or necks, and several who had died of pneumonia. I cleaned one such dead while explaining to new Adepts why we did so, how to do so, and what happened to the body afterwards. I taught the Novices a few tricks to keeping their robes fresh and clean, and had the Adepts name and explain the reasons for all the different incense, prayers, and prayer-candles, before High Priest Locks finally arrived.

Jinglenob and I left at noon, and returned to Mama's in time to get a ride in Maggie and Fintel's food cart to the Daymarket.

"Kienta!" Siarana called when we got there, sounding worried. "Tinsle's sick, an' Oriver chipped a tooth slippin'. I gotta get this wagon about, now that Jinglenob's 'ere, but no'un'll be 'ere to man th' counter. Can ye take over the bakery?" I nodded and made shooing motions at her, while another of Kindle's rusher friend helped my sister load the cart and hook Jinglenob up, while my own guard, a rusher I didn't recognize, helped me unload the cart and helped a green-tinged Tinsle and a sobbing Oriver into the back, for Fintel and Maggie to take back. Quickly, I got to work, as we were all but swarmed by mots and coves wanting hot treats to stave off the chill.

We had a bit of trouble, when a cove tried to leave without paying, but the rusher got him to change his mind at the end of a dagger, and I caught a little gixie trying to help herself to a treat. She was a skinny thing, face thin, so I gave her a meat pie and a little packet of cinnamon balls, before shooing her off.

I was beginning to be swamped, though. Mots and coves alike were shoving one another, tempers brought high by the misery of the last three days, and the sky was beginning to get dark with clouds again, promising more rain tonight. I struggled to keep them in order, to get them their orders, and keep my coins in order and change exact as well.

"Oi!" Came a bellow. "You sarden scuts, keep it in line!" It was Finch, glaring fiercely, black eyes looking darker with his smoke-gray tunic and black breeches. Ferrows was next to him, blue eyes looking brighter even as he scowled fiercely at the crowd. "You'll get your sarden food and get back in your homes a'fore the rain comes down _only_ if y'don't go rushing Bails like a bunch of sarden whelps at their bitch's tits! Keep calm and keep quiet!" After he and Ferrows had glared the crowd to mild obedience, I found myself with two helpers at the counter, to my relief. Finch took over the coins, and Ferrows handed the food out, while I made sure he got the proper orders, and kept the over fires fed and heated cider and ale alike for extra selling to those who'd brought their own jacks and asked for it.

The skies opened up just as the last few in line had gotten their orders, and I quickly got their food to Ferrows to hand out, before darting to the side and pulling the rusher guard inside with a tired grin. Siarana returned moments after the first flash of lightning, with Jinglenob and an empty wagon and rusher in tow, and I got the three of them inside as well. With a relieved sigh, I passed out hot drinks and cinnamon pastries, and gave Jinglenob a few meat pies as well, as we all found someplace to sit inside the bakery.

"It's a bit harder work then I'd thought it was, being a baker," Finch acknowledged, while Siarana snorted at him.

"An' ta t'ink, ye only helped at th' counter, Master Finch!" She teased, drying her honey-blonde hair with a flour-spattered towel, the cleanest I could find for her. Her guard (A dark-haired, tan-skinned cove named Clint Henselly with pretty brown eyes) had declined a towel, while Jinglenob was happily rolling in a towel that had ruined batter on it. "Ye've yet ta _really_ work until ye've kneaded th' dough an' made th' dozens o' cakes an' th' like, been on oven duty 'til yer skin's red wi' th' 'eat, _an'_ manned the counter. Tis _exhaustin'_ sometimes." Finch and Ferrows were giving me strange looks, so I just smiled sweetly at them and wiped sweat from my brow onto my green shirt sleeve.

"So, 'ow many brats _are_ there?" Ferrows asked after taking a deep drag of his jack of ale.

"Nineteen," Siarana and I answered together. "And mor on the way," we added; we both had a good laugh at the faces my Dogs and our rushers gave, and I flung my arm around my little sister's shoulders, pulling the eight-year-old against me, where she snuggled in.

"There's Jakoal, Lyddy, Markus, an' Barret, who all live an' work in Port Caynn," Siarana started explaining cheerfully. "Then Kienta, Kip, Corth, Maggie, an' Fintel, an' those eight is from Papa Farren, who died a'fore Maggie & Fintel was born. Then there's Jesabel, Jorath, Nikolai, me an' my twin Tinsle... Oriver, Cail, Kala, Kir, Mark, Hanse, Leorn, an' Mick, and th' babes on the way, and the eleven o' us is from Papa Kindle!" She beamed brightly up at the four men, and I laughed aloud at their gawping.

"How d'ye keep 'em straight in yer heads?!" My Guard (blond, blue eyed swordsman named Tanir from Scanra) demanded, and my sister and I shrugged.

"Jus' do," she told him, before I had to get up and handle a cove at the counter, covered in a wax-coated cloak that kept him dry. He ordered a basket of fritters and cinnamon balls, and gladly had his jack filled with hot ale. He paid in silver, and waited as I checked it and found it true. Then he bought the basket as well, tugged his hood in a bit of a salute, and trundled off into the rain.

My group and I stayed inside as the rain tapered slowly off again after an hour, before disappearing all together and the sky cleared. Finch and Ferrows stayed about to help me at the counter, and I happily taught Finch how to make cheese fritters during a lull in customers. Before it got dark, my Dogs left, wishing me a good night and stalking off. I spent another two hours at the bakery, before gathering what goods remained and walking Siarana home with Jinglenob as Maggie and Fintel brought Jorath and Jesabel to take the Night Market.

I spent the night at Mama's once more, as Tinsle, Kip, Corth, and Cail had all gotten ill from the rains, and Oriver's poor tooth was making him miserable.

Now I sit here in the Nursery, writing this by candlelight as I let Kir and Kala cage me in on either side, already mostly asleep. Jinglenob in nearby, already deep in his dreams, with little Mick laying upon his side and drooling into his fur. I shall end this entry here, and go to bed.

Black God bless.

**A/N:** Wheeeeeeee

Review please!


	15. Puppy Problems: Day 15

**A/N:** Whooot! Next Chapter! on a Roll! Yay!

Please don't forget to review!

_The Journal of_

_Kienta Bails_

_**Wednesday, April 15, 246**_

_Before My Watch_

I showed up at Beka's this morning to find a large map pinned up on Beka's well, with countless colored pins in it. The Snake's victims, I found out, as Beka explained the maps Lord Gershom had for his Hunt's that spanned the country. T'was a very clever idea, though I'm not too good at maps, mostly because I've never owned an up-to-date, fancy map, as they tended to be expensive, and use strange keys for different things.

I was happy to lazy about on the floor, throwing cinnamon balls at Rosto as the cove and I tried to see who could catch the most with just their mouths. We both ended up laughing and covered in sticky dust, making me glad I was dressed in a tunic and breeches. Mama was washing my gillyflower dress for me, and I'd have to leave breakfast early a'fore I went to Patten for work. I sang a song before I went, as Rosto had pulled out his pipe. Verene sang with me, and we gave a bit of a silly dance, earning laughs and whistles from our friends, before I reluctantly parted ways.

Master Levens was a generous employer, and very kind, but when he wanted results you weren't giving, or when you were caught attempting to cheat him, he could be a scary cove.

Today a cove tried to sneak some coins from my bowl, under the guise of placing them, and my guard (a handsome Carthaki, with an unfortunate purple birthmark smearing across his face like an illness, named Sarro) acted quickly, catching the would-be thief and pinning him neatly to the edge of the platform. Quickly, I lifted my coin-bowl away and handed it to one of the approved coin-counters, who had all been magic'd to not steal and to tell the true amount earned by each Player.

Master Levens is a dangerous cove, and his face stayed sweet and warm while his eyes went cold as he told Sarro to take the captive into Master Levens office. The Dogs would be called a while later, and he'd be handed off. I don't know if his charges would be what he was caught with, however. One of the other Players, during our break, told me of a mot Master Levens had once caught thieving, and how she'd been arrested and charged for _colemongering_ which she'd had no hand in at all. Her children had been forced to find work, their father disappearing one night after the trial. Of the three of them, two worked as Doxies for Master Levens, with a contract that had them paying off their mother's cost, their own, _and_ their fathers (he had, apparently, been a guard for Master Levens before his disappearance). The third child had taken the Black Gods Option, strangled by the stress of debts that weren't his own.

I wasn't sure if it was a smart thing, having my leash held by such a ruthless cove during the days, but I'm no thief, and I'll stick true to my contract. If, six months from now, I no longer wished to work for Master Levens, I would leave. Until then, he held my leash as tight as my Dogs did, and the collar around my neck had begun to get settled.

I must remember to tell Mama about Master Levens agreeability with food-sellers... And tell Kindle to mayhaps keep an eye on my employer. A cove so crafty and ruthless is someone to watch.

_After My Watch_

Pox and murrain on the Alley-Cat! May his flesh rot, his blood boil, his gems fell off, and his eyes melt out! Curse the sarden cracknob that canoodled the back-alley puttock that birthed the scummer-brained midden-hen we've called an Alley-Cat!

We found another mot who's been hack to pieces, and no scent to be found! The poor mot _had_ managed to give the scummer a good scratch, if the blood Finch found beneath her nails was his. My Dogs took it straight to Fulk, and left me with a Senior Dog named Jenna Leroy, and her seven-year partner Colton Marselles, to place the poor mots limbs on a tarp and send her off to the Black God's Temple. I prayed for the mot as she was sent off, and then turned my attention to the mot that ran the tavern across from the alley, while the Dogs turned there own eyes onto the owners of the homes on either side, Jinglenob staying at the alley to keep an eye on the scene. The name of it was the Golden Stormwing, though it looked more like a bordel than a tavern, but the smell of piss, booze, and vomit named it such.

I was immediately given a path through the drunken scuts, who made the Sign at the sight of my bloody arms and clothes. The mot that owned the building hurried to herd me into a private room, not wanting me to scare off her customers.

"A mot was killed in the alley across the way," I told her coolly, my voice clipped with the anger that simmered in my chest at the curst Alley-Cat. "Pretty, blond hair, blue eyes, dressed in a blue dress, lookin' t'impress a lad, slippers an' all. Dead barely three hours. She smelled like ale, Mistress, and a mot's not likely t'be wanderin' about, dressed up pretty for her cove, 'specially in the Cesspool." The mot scowled, small brown eyes bloodshot, and black hair greasy.

"D'ye ev'n know th' num'r o' mots an' coves I see in 'ere ev'ry 'our, Guardsw'm'n?" she snapped. I bared my teeth at here, and she took a step back warily.

"I'm not _askin'_ abou' _them_, Mistress," I hissed, and stepped closer. "Blond mot. Blue eyes an' dress. Dressed to catch a cove. Abou' twenty-five years o' age. Nervous. She'da been shakin' wi' nerves, Mistress. Mayhaps she'da been tellin' a curious ear abou' 'er man, abou' 'is money or looks, th' way 'e treated 'er. Do ye remember _her_?" The mot glared, then hesitated, before gesturing me after her with a sharp movement. She led me back into the tavern, towards the bar, where a pretty barmaid was flirting with a drunk, leering cove as looked like mayhaps he'd call on her after her shift.

"Allisana!" the mot barked; the pretty barmaid straightened, startled. "Th' Guardsw'm'n is seekin' fer a pretty mot. Blond an' wearin' blue, aboutta meet a cove. Ye see 'er?" The barmaid blinked her cinnamon colored eyes, and frowned.

"Aye," she agreed, and reluctantly left her flirty customer to saunter over to me. "She said 'er name was Marlena, an' she was off ta meet a _Noble_, an' 'er, a common-born mot li' th' res' o' us!" She scoffed, and tossed her curly brown hair over her shoulder. "Dressed up nice, in blue. Wearin' fancy slippers. Drank down two ales a'fore she checked th' time and told me ta wish 'er luck. Said she was gonna _marry_ 'im!" She laughed derisively. "Daft as a midden-hen, tha'un, but 'armless enough. She do sommat stupid?" She asked, eager for gossip; I gave her a hard look, and she leaned back uncertainly.

"Did ye notice any strange coves come in 'ere the last week'r so?" I asked her sharply. "They'd've had some gauds, kept t' 'imself. Watched th' alleys around, watched the blond mots tha' came through. Mayhaps flirted with a few, mayhaps paid for a few o' their drinks." The barmaid looked worried now, straightening.

"Coves is allus tryin' t' get a bi' o' coyne," she said cautiously; I nodded her on. "There'sa cove, though. Comes in once, durin' th' rains. Dark boots, breeches, an' cloak, but _nice_. Had a bi' o' embroidery on 'is edges, looked li' patterns or waves or sommat. Paid good, an' kept to the back. 'E spoke more t'me sister then me. She's blond an' blue-eyed." I straightened sharply.

"Is she here?" I asked sharply; the barmaid, now fully concerned, disappeared into the kitchen, as Finch and Ferrows showed up, scowling.

"Fulk was a sarden scut," Finch told me darkly, gesturing for an ale from the bartender. "Did his bit o' magic, declared the Alley-Cat hidden, showed us out." Ferrows spat to the side, and I huffed at him in agreement.

"Wot abou' ye, then?" the blond Dog asked; I told them of the lead I'd found, and the two of them straightened when Allisanna the barmaid returned with a pretty blond mot that was dusted in flour, blue eyes wide and worried.

"This is m'sister, Lissa," Allisanna introduced. "They wanna know 'bout tha' cove from Saturday, Lissa. The fancy one tha' liked ye." Lissa nodded, uncertainly, and wrung her hands around a dish-cloth.

"Well," she started, "'is 'air wos black, an' it went ta 'is chin. 'Is eyes wos 'bout th' color o' mud a' nigh', tha' da'k brown, y'know? 'E wos abou' t'irty, mayhaps a lil' more. Spoke li' a merchant, or sommat, all posh an' well-bred." She wrung the rag again. "Tha's all I can t'ink o' at the momen', Guardsm'n," she muttered, ducking her head uncertainly.

My Dogs took over the interview, asking both of them questions I didn't even think of.

What time did he come in at?

Did he have a special accent?

How big were his hands?

Did he have any scars or marks?

What color was his skin?

Did he meet anyone, or talk about or to anyone?

Did he comment on Lissa's clothes?

Did he carry any weapons?

"A sword," Lissa replied firmly. "Wi' a bi' o' a shine on th' end. T'wos a charm there, purple. 'E said t'wos ta keep th' blade fr'm leavin' 'is side wi'out permission." My Dogs asked a few more questions, before we thanked the two and left. Jinglenob joined us as we passed on the word to Leroy and her partner, and then my Dogs led me onward.

"I don't like this cove," Finch muttered as we walked our Watch. "A higher merchant or Noble hunting Cesspool mots? Says he don't believe any'un'll care for their deaths. Mocking them. Mocking _us_." Ferrows spit, glowering.

"I may no' like sarden puttocks an' trulls," he grumbled. "Bu' these here mots is _our_ puttocks an' trulls, an' _this_ sarden scut is sayin' tha' we can't keep our Watch righ'. Sarden son o' a tosspot trollop," he growled, and spat to the side again, as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.

"Let's get through patrol," Finch ordered grimly. "We'll deal with this Hunt, and get others on it as well." Ferrows and I agreed, and if our baton work was harsher during the tavern fights and brawls we broke up, welll, no one could blame us, could they?

Though I got a cuff on the head for accidentally breaking a cove's arm when he punched me in the face, but that was all.

After we'd mustered out, Finch and Ferrows held me back, while they passed on the description we'd managed to get on our Alley-Cat suspect, and the rest of the information. Then they dragged me to the Dogs Bathhouse to wash the blood and scummer from us, tossing some extra coin at the bath-hands to clean our uniforms while we washed.

"This cove is gettin' on m'last nerve," Finch grumbled as he leaned back to soak, head tilted back with his arms spread over the lip of the bath. Ferrows grunted in agreement from his much-similar placement, and I hummed, burried up to my chin in the hot water, eyes half-closed in pleasure at the heat. Jinglenob had decided to leave, whether to home or Mama's, I didn't know. Either way, I'd see him later.

"Oi, Bails," Ferrows said, opening one blue eye to stare at me. I hummed questioningly at him, and blinked sleepily. "Why d'ye _work_ on yer days off?" I blinked at him, and sat up a bit, catching a yawn with my hand as the cool air chilled my shoulders.

"Mama needs all the help she can get," I replied simply, yawning again. "An' we were raised knowing that family helps family. We're all we've got, after all." Drowsily, I leaned back against the edge of the tub with a sleepy hum.

"And you're a Player in the mornings?" Finch asked cautiously; I hummed again.

"Fr'm ten 'til two," I muttered. "'Cept on Mondays an' Tuesdays. I work in Patten now. Master Levens is a good employer. He would make a good Rogue, actually, but he's only interested in keeping an iron fist over his employees, not taking care of others." My Dogs huffed or hummed in response, and we were quiet again for a few minutes.

"Mayhaps we'l come to watch, some morning," Finch offered nonchalantly, eyes staying pointedly closed. "You're a decent enough Pup. Obedient, but smart enough. I think we'll keep you, eh, Barbric?" he asked Ferrows; the blond Dog chuckled lowly.

"Aye, Godric," he mused, and folded his hands behind his head while I stared at them, confused. "I think we will." They spoke no more, not even to wish me goodnight, when we finally left the bathhouses. I found Jinglenob fast asleep on my bed when I got back to our room, and sat down to write this while waiting for my hair to dry a bit.

Sometimes, my Dogs are mighty confusing. It's like, some nights they think I'm an annoying little gixie who's just waiting for the right Rat to get killed by, and other nights I'm like a four-legged puppy following them, adorable and stupid, but they let me follow anyways. And then, _some_ nights, I'm there Pup, their responsibility, and they treat me like they own me (which, as I've written before, they practically do for the next year).

My Dogs are so strange at times, I swear...

Well, my hair is dry now, for the most part. I shall pray for the poor alley-mot, and ask we catch her Noble Alley-Cat killer soon, and then go to bed.

Black God bless.

**A/N:** There you go, a bit more of Finch & Ferrows! ^-^

**VOCAB**

Coyne - Vagina

Gauds - bright, costly things

Puttock - low-level female prostitute (A cheap whore)

Tosspot - Drunkard

Trollop - Slut

Trull - Extremely low-class kind of woman, the dregs


End file.
